


Eastern Sky

by HannaSedai



Series: Earth-H [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 100,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaSedai/pseuds/HannaSedai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne, the new Batman and Robin, struggle to work together. Their budding partnership is complicated when an old enemy appears, asking Dick to help him on a mission that will take all three through hell and back...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Batman and Robin

-DG-

Gotham City

Downtown

Dick hated capes.

The Dark Knight's thick black cape threw him off-balance. He had worked with one before, but this was ridiculous. This thing was obnoxious; wearing it on patrol was like trying to para-glide in a Kevlar ballgown. Capes were a hazard in this line of business, though it was all part of the act.

Despite his dislike of capes he didn't have time to rant. There were more important things to worry about at the moment. For example, the terrorist with the bomb strapped to his waist. That was kind of important.

The train rattled beneath him as it hurried along the steel tracks, speeding towards an unknown destination. Wind whistled and howled in his ears. Terrified shouts from the passengers below reminded him of what was at stake. The goon across from him cocked his head to the side.

"Ya know, I thought you'd be a lot taller."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Batman said, "but I'm not here to impress."

Sweat rolled down Dick's neck. Maybe he wasn't so good at this after all. His cape wrapped around his body as the wind whipped him, courtesy of the high-speed train that rocked underneath them. Eying the bomb wrapped in duct tape around the goon's waist, Dick wondered if it was a dud or not.

"I've heard that the Bat scares the crap outta you," the goon said. "I expected to piss my pants. So come on, Batsy: let's dance."

"I'm warning you: disarm the bomb or I'll call in the cavalry."

The train rocked as it rounded a corner and threw its rooftop passengers askew. The goon waved his arms wildly to steady himself. Dick stood still easily, his body automatically adjusting. Standing on a moving train was rather like standing on a ship at sea.

"You? Call in backup? Ain't that a little outta character for ya?"

"Nah. In fact I think this is more in character than I have been in years. Please meet my rambunctious assistant: Robin, the Boy Wonder!"

A red-and-green blur appeared out of nowhere and knocked the terrorist down.

"TT. You talk too much." Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne and the current Robin, straightened and scowled. "And don't ever call me Boy Wonder again or I'll strangle you with that cape you hate so much."

"It's part of the job description," Dick said, smirking, "Boy Wonder."

Damian's hand snatched at the terrorist's throat as the poor man tried to crawl away.

"I deactivated the bomb five minutes ago," Damian said. "TT. You're so unprofessional. Not even worth our time."

The Batmobile flew alongside the train. Damian leapt into it as Dick dragged the terrorist over the side.

"Autopilot engage," Dick ordered.

The man screamed bloody murder as he dangled over Gotham. Absently, Dick wondered what would happen if Gotham's criminals knew that Nightwing, who had mysteriously vanished from the public, was now wearing the cape-and-cowl. Well, at least one person did.

Of course he would know, Dick thought. Why wouldn't he know?

Dick threw the criminal roughly onto the rooftop.

"Hey, man!" the terrorist gasped, holding up his hands. "This ain't my fault, honest!"

"I dunno. What do you think, Robin? Do you believe him?"

"Am I supposed to answer? Or is that a rhetorical question?"

Damian didn't know how to joke around, did he? That had always been his problem.

"Nah, you quip. It's part of the job description."

"You're a freak."

"I know."

The two of them brought back their fists and popped the terrorist right in the kisser. As the terrorist flew through the air Dick took out his grappling hook and shot it, whipping his arm back as soon as the rope wrapped itself around the terrorist's legs. Yellow street lamplight glinted off a knife's edge. Dick jerked his head around, distracted. A knife had somehow made its way into Damian's hand.

I thought I made him get rid of them all, Dick thought.

A hoarse scream ripped through the air as the knife hit its target in the shoulder. Not lethal, but enough to draw blood.

"Robin!" Dick grabbed Damian's wrist. "That's enough."

He quickly twisted Damian's wrist until he let go of the knife. Instead of crying out in pain Damian simply glared at him. Boy, Damian was going to get one hell of a lecture once they got back.

He's dangerous, Dick thought. So dangerous.

If this was how effective he could be as a ten-year-old...

You were effective as a sixteen-year-old, Grayson, a voice in his head said slyly. Nine months of mercenary training changed you. You learned how to kill. If that's what nine months did to you then what could ten years do to a child?

It wasn't Damian's fault; it was how he had been raised. Brainwashing children was a heinous crime, one that Dick would never do. No matter how much he wanted to yell at Damian, he knew that he couldn't, that it wouldn't work. He was a frustrating kid to work with, that was for sure.

"Nice kid ya got there, Bats," the terrorist said.

"Get in the Batmobile," Dick growled.

"You don't—"

"I said: Get. In. The. Batmobile."

Damian paused, considering him. It wasn't so much the words that struck the boy as the way Dick said them. It was a tone Dick hardly ever used, except when he dealt with the hardest of criminals. Losing his temper wasn't something Dick did often, but when he did...

"That's an order, Robin."

Finally, Damian moved. No matter what Damian thought, Dick didn't like giving orders. After hand-cuffing the would-be terrorist to a street lamp Dick joined Damian in the Batmobile.

"Gordon will take care of this," Dick said. "Just sit tight."

They rode back to the home base in silence. Dick's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles growing white as he drove.

"Batman and Robin spotted downtown!" the police radio blared. "Witnesses from the train report that..."

He tuned the voice out. Neither of them spoke as they traveled back to the penthouse. Of late, the two had exchanged brotherly banter. The snotty little brat was the little brother Dick had never had. Well, Tim was like his brother too, but at least Tim had his father. Right now Damian didn't really have anyone except him and Alfred. How odd, yet how utterly sad that Damian had both his parents but not their affection.

I have to be sensitive, Dick thought. We don't have the same backgrounds.

Yet somehow, Dick felt as though he was more qualified than Bruce to mentor the kid. While they shared some similarities (Such as a love of Lady Gaga, Damian was just too stubborn to admit it. Of course they both liked her music!) Dick knew that he was a troubled little boy who needed attention. Being Robin helped dissolve some of his aggression, though he was the most aggressive Robin to date.

And being Renegade does not count.

It was almost like the old days, back when Batman and Robin first started to patrol Gotham together.

Almost.

Maybe?

No, not quite yet.

-RH-

Star City

Harper Residence

"Dad!" Lian exclaimed. "It's Batman!"

"Yeah, it is," Roy replied, glancing at the kitchen TV.

Roy had managed to convince Green Arrow that he no longer needed to occasionally work with him. Lian, at age eleven, was now his sidekick. Together the two of them rocked Star City harder than a drunk on speed at a friggin' rave. It was awesome.

Although Roy had been worried that she would inherit her mother's more violent tendencies, Lian was turning out to be a great kid. He tried not to push her too hard—he knew that a sidekick's life wasn't all it was cracked up to be—but she was a fast learner.

Lian sat on the floor of their living room, drawing with crayons as she watched the TV. She lay on her stomach, her legs kicking the air to some tune in her head.

"Is that Damian?" she asked, pointing towards Robin.

"I think so."

"Huh." She frowned and tapped her chin with her crayon. "So much for teamwork."

Roy stopped what he was doing to watch. For the past three days Batman and Robin had been sneaking around Gotham in the dead of night, enacting justice throughout the land without the media hounding them. Today, they had decided to allow themselves to be seen on camera. Stress was evident on the Dark Knight's face.

"We should visit Uncle Dick," Roy said, more to himself than to Lian. "I think he needs someone to cheer him up."

He hadn't seen Dick quite that stressed out for a long time. Maybe the strain of the cape-and-cowl was too much for him. But no...that couldn't be it. Considering all of the shit Dick had gone through...

"That's because Damian is a poopface."

"Hey, that's not nice angelface."

"But he is!"

"That doesn't mean that we insult them. Except of course..."

"The bad guys."

"That's right. Bro-fist me." Roy held up a fist. Giggling, Lian bumped her fist against his. "'Atta girl. You wanna kick some bad guy butt?"

"Heck yes!"

Lian immediately dropped her art supplies to don her costume. As she scampered away Roy looked at the TV again. Everyone was going nuts about the "return" of Batman and Robin, Gotham's famous Dynamic Duo. Roy shut off the television and moved to put on his own costume.

Kicking bad guy ass was always on his list of things to do.

-SW-

Jump City, California

Old Haunt

That's my boy, he thought dryly as he watched the news.

How odd. Time had snatched years of his life away. Ten years, to be precise. Ten years since his first—and almost successful—manipulation of Dick Grayson.

He hadn't been keeping as many tabs on his former apprentice as he used to. It was unnecessary. Dick was his own man now, not a boy any longer. While Dick had eventually proved himself to be the perfect apprentice, that hadn't stopped Slade from trying to recruit someone else. Each time Dick thwarted him. Spectacularly. One resulted in the death of a Titan: Terra.

I don't think Grayson ever forgave himself, Slade thought.

Slade was perfectly aware that he had caused the Titans a lot of grief. Of late he hadn't been clashing with them. Occasionally (or perhaps very rarely) he worked alongside them as allies.

But since their short reunion in Bludhaven Slade hadn't talked to Dick. There was no need to. Why have a heart-to-heart conversation now, after ten years? Neither of them would apologize to the other.

He didn't even talk to his son, now a member of the Teen Titans. It was deliberate. Joey didn't need him in his life. Slade was positive that Joey didn't want to talk to him, didn't even want to associate himself with Slade. Oddly enough, Slade was content with Joey's decision.

He has the right to live his own life.

From what Slade had gathered, Dick now donned his mentor's costume, his new Robin nearly everything that Slade had expected Dick to become. Well, from what Slade could tell the new Robin (Bruce Wayne's biological son, wasn't he?) was a hell of a lot more aggressive than Dick had been. How interesting.

The time for an apprentice was long past. Although he didn't want to admit it, Slade was getting along in years. While time hadn't eroded his skills Slade had learned one thing: he was bad with kids. Well, teenagers to be exact.

William Wintergreen was still with him, even after all these years. The man deserved retirement, yet he still worked for Slade. Or perhaps a gift basket...or a gift card to some fancy restaurant...

So many years, Slade thought.

Someone shouted. Sitting up sharply, Slade instantly recognized the voice. "WILL!"

An instant later he'd regretted shouting. He knew better than that. No one answered. Not like he'd expected anyone to. Slade dashed to the main room, bullets whizzing past him. If it weren't for his eerily fast reflexes he would already be dead.

Without hesitating Slade whipped out a knife and threw it into a man's chest. He staggered, clutching the blade in a futile attempt to stop the blood. He stumbled and fell to his knees, and something in the man's face told Slade that he knew he was going to die.

Would he squeal?

"Talk," Slade growled, "or I'll slice your jugular vein. How does that sound?"

Bubbles of blood forced their way out of the man's mouth. Truthfully,slitting the man's neck would make this a mercy killing. But Slade wanted him to know that no one screwed with him like this.

"We're not here to talk business, Deathstroke," the man spluttered, "we're here to finish you."

"Obviously that failed. Why?"

Blood trickled out of the man's mouth as Slade grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him forward.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet. Of course, you weren't supposed to be involved in the first place..."

"Talk."

The man reached into an inside coat pocket and pulled out a picture. Slade froze. Without a word he snatched the picture and gazed at it, hardly daring to believe his eye.

For the first time in years he felt very, very afraid.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?"

"As a matter of fact it does."

"There will be more of us coming," the man snarled."Even you won't be able to stop them."

His attacker twitched once before lying still.

The television still emanated noise. Slade wiped blood away from his face as he stared at the screen. The news anchor was still yapping about Batman and Robin. For a few seconds he stood immobilized. How funny. The world's greatest mercenary, frightened out of his wits and willing to be so when no one was watching.

In a way, everyone was wrong. Slade had feelings. He felt fear, but war taught him how to suppress it. Why in God's name, then, did he feel so frightened now? Was it because the assassins had caught him off guard? Or because...

"Will!"

He turned and sprinted into the other room, heart pounding madly against his rib cage. His old friend lay on the floor, blood oozing from a nasty head wound. He was definitely unconscious, anyone would be after a hit like that...

Someone bludgeoned him.

The old man would have a concussion, if he even woke up at all. Years ago Wintergreen could have shrugged off a hit like this, but he wasn't immortal.

"Did...you...find...?" Wintergreen spluttered, wheezing out each word.

"Don't talk, Will...God..."

Sudden images of finding Wintergreen in that Vietnamese prison struck Slade. Back then he had thought that Wintergreen was going to die. Right now, those same panicked thoughts ran through his mind.

Grant died...I can't...I can't let anyone else die.

Carefully, Slade dragged Wintergreen over to a nearby chair, blood trailing behind him. It took a lot of self-control for Slade not to panic. It wasn't often that he was caught by surprise.

Then again, he thought wryly, maybe I'm losing my touch.

Something wet touched his forearm. Looking down, Slade realized that Wintergreen's bloody hand was on his arm. His old friend was wordlessly asking him what the problem was.

Slade pulled out the picture handed to him by one of the assassins and showed it to Wintergreen. Wintergreen's brow furrowed as he looked at the picture, glancing up at Slade after a few long seconds. Will studied him for a long, long while. Slade knew what Wintergreen was going to say long before he said it.

"Go."

-DW-

Gotham City

Penthouse

The silence between them was strained as they traveled back to the penthouse. For some reason Grayson seemed more agitated and angry than usual.

TT. I can handle whatever Grayson throws at me.

Once the Batmobile was parked, Damian hopped out of the car. A lecture was coming. Of course it was, though Grayson's lectures were laughable. Not intimidating in the least. While Grayson did have his moments, he was still unfit to take his father's place.

"What was that back there?" Grayson asked.

"I did what you told me to do: Take out the terrorist."

"We have rules, Damian. I told you: no knives."

"He was about to cut you down, Grayson! If I hadn't stabbed him you would have been dead."

How infuriating. Other caped crusaders used swords and arrows and explosives. Why did Grayson feel as though he had to put limits on him? Damian scowled. It wasn't as if it made a difference anyway. He didn't need any weapon to kill people. It was a useless restriction, but an annoying one.

"I don't care. You don't use knives. I don't want you using unnecessary force."

"It's not unnecessary. You don't use enough force."

Before Damian could climb the ladder back up to the main house, Grayson blocked his way. Damian's scowl deepened. What idiot could believe that this man was Batman? He was too short. Too skinny. Too weak. Not the kind of man who should continue the legacy. While Damian could, at times, grudgingly respect Grayson, he was just so inferior compared to his father. No matter how many times Grayson claimed to understand him, it was hard to believe.

"Your inferior mind cannot even begin to fathom what my mother put me through."

A peculiar expression crossed Grayson's face, showing an emotion that Damian could not identify. It was not commiseration or anger, but something else. Recollection, perhaps?  
Without warning Grayson grabbed Damian by the shirt and pulled him close. "You wanna bet?"

More curious than frightened, Damian searched Grayson's face. He knew, of course, of his current mentor's past. Tony Zucco and all that. Well, he didn't know everything about Grayson's past, but something told Damian that he had triggered something. This did trouble Damian, even if he didn't show it. Grayson was not the kind of man who lectured violently.

"Master Dick—"

"What, Alfred?" Grayson snapped.

Alfred's expression didn't change, though he did appear rather worried. "We have someone on the line."

"Put them on hol—"

"You're going to want to answer this."

Grayson let go of him. Avoiding Damian's eyes, Alfred sidled over to Grayson and whispered in his ear. Eyes widening, Grayson turned to leave the room. "Stay here, Damian."

"You can't—"

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder. "I suggest that you not bother him now. It's rather personal."

In a simmering rage Grayson stormed out of the room. What was so important that Grayson would keep him out of this? If it was a message from the Titans then surely he would have allowed Damian to follow.

Well, it didn't matter. Even if Grayson didn't tell him Damian was going to find out anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.   
> A/N: Sorry that I haven't updated the fic here in a while! I'm still kind of new here. This fic is still in progress and is updated weekly at FF. I shall post the rest here!

Chapter 2: Ill-Tidings

-DG-

Gotham City

Wayne Penthouse

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he picked up the phone. Usually folks called on the big screen or his communicator whenever they wanted to talk to him. Only Lucius and other civilians used the phone. When Alfred whispered the name in his ear, Dick thought he was mistaken. Of course, there was no joking when it came to this.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Mr. Grayson."

Well, crap. His grip on the phone tightened as he took a deep breath. "You've got some nerve calling me, Slade."

"I wouldn't be calling you if it wasn't an emergency."

"You have five seconds."

"Ah. Well, I thought you would say that...so I took some precautions to make sure that you'd pay attention to me."

Suddenly the pieces clicked together as a growing sense of unease and revulsion crept into him.

"You're in the house, aren't you?"

"You noticed that quickly? I must be losing my touch."

Dick turned off the phone and set it back in the charger. Questions with obvious answers dangled on the tip of his tongue. Already Dick hated this. Slade had always made him feel jumpy, unsafe, insecure. Whatever Slade wanted from him, he wasn't going to get it by breaking into the penthouse. Turning around, Dick saw Slade sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the balcony. Once they met each others' eyes Slade stood up and opened the sliding glass door.

"Get out," Dick snapped.

"Is that how you treat guests?"

"You're no guest."

"I just want to talk."

"No."

"Master Dick, what is—" Alfred began.

Alfred paused, staring right at Slade. The butler had never met Slade in person, but he knew enough to dislike him.

Dick's hands curled into fists as he glared at Slade. The mercenary wasn't stupid. Bold, yeah, but not stupid. He wouldn't walk straight into Batman's headquarters without good reason. Slade took off his mask as he nodded at Alfred.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, "if Wilson intended to harm anyone he would have done so by now. "

"What?"

While Dick felt a bit outraged that Alfred assumed to know more about Slade than Dick did, the old butler was right. If Slade had wanted him or anyone else hurt he wouldn't have taken the time to announce his presence. Alfred didn't look too happy that Slade was there, though.

"Listen to Pennyworth," Slade said, smirking, "I'm not here to kill you. Lighten up. You're always so tense."

What irritated him the most? The fact that Slade spoke so casually, as though they were good friends? Or the fact that Slade had just barged into the house and acted as if he was entitled to be there?

"Sure, Slade, go right ahead and walk into my house. I don't mind." Dick mockingly gestured towards the kitchen. "Make yourself at home."

"Oh, you were ever so polite when you worked for me."

"Forced obedience isn't the same as politeness. Now answer my question: what the hell are you doing here? I thought you were still in Jump?"

"All in good time. Can't we catch up? For old times' sake?"

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

As Alfred moved away Dick caught his arm and whispered, "Keep Damian out of this, if possible."

Despite his whispering Slade heard him. "You haven't told the boy?"

"He doesn't need to know."

"It would probably be in your best interests to tell him."

"About us?" Dick had considered it, but in the end he was too much of a coward to tell his story to Damian. "Let me teach him how I like. I sure as hell don't need your advice."

"Everyone knows he's aggressive. Everyone knows you're not the real Batman."

At this point Dick wasn't afraid of Slade. While he sympathized with the man to a certain degree they certainly weren't friends. But if there was one thing that Slade was still good at, it was mind games. Of course, mind games only worked if you played them.

"What do you want, Slade?" Dick asked. "Cut the psychological crap. You know I don't appreciate your tricks. Just tell me what you want before I kick you out."

As Dick spoke he moved around the kitchen. A drink. That was what he needed. Without turning his back to Slade he opened the fridge and took out a beer.

"Hey, throw me one, will ya?"

Resisting the urge to throw one at Slade's face, Dick calmly tossed a bottle over to Slade.

"I used the Suicide Squad's Watch Tower to teleport here. I need your help, Dick. I'm looking for a partner to work with."

Foam fizzled over Dick's fingers as he paused to consider Slade. Ever since the apprenticeship had ended, Slade called him Grayson. Dick preferred to be called that. He hated the familiarity between them. Although he had gotten used to Slade calling him by his first name that didn't mean he liked it. Whatever Slade wanted from him, he wanted it badly. Hopefully not so badly that he decided to infect everyone with nanobots again.

"Why me?"

"You're the only one trained to work with me. The only person I trust."

"You trust me?"

That was a riot. Slade, trust him? Dick didn't even trust himself at times. After everything that had happened between them how could they trust each other? Each of them had backstabbed the other. If they happened to trust each other, then it would be a very wary trust. He couldn't help but snort.

"Right now, yes," Slade replied testily.

Dick downed half of his beer in a single gulp. Coughing a little, he shook his head and peered at Slade. "Tell me, why does the great Slade Wilson need help?"

Opening his own beer, Slade drank, apparently deciding not to talk right away. His smirk had faded as he mused, his remaining eye staring off into the distance. This...this wasn't like Slade. Allowing some of his initial anger to subside, Dick waited for Slade to speak.

"Adeline Kane is missing."

Adeline Kane...Why did that name sound so familiar? He searched his memory. He had heard the name before, but where...?

"Joe's mom," Dick said suddenly. "You...your wife?"

"Ex."

Having been so entangled with Slade's messed-up family life, Dick had met the woman once or twice. She had seemed strong-willed, the kind of woman Slade would marry. It was hard to believe that she was responsible for taking his eye out, though.

"Why do you need me?" Dick demanded. "You like to work alone. Or why not ask Joe?"

"Like I said, you're the only one qualified to work with me." Slade's stoic expression never changed.

"Bullshit."

"She doesn't trust me," Slade said quickly. "She doesn't want me involved. And if Joey gets hurt...she'll hate me even more."

"So you're going to drag me into this?" Dick laughed nervously. "You have a weird habit of pulling me into your family business, Slade."

Indeed Slade did. Dick's career as the Boy Wonder had ended quite abruptly when Slade extorted him, threatening to kill the Titans unless Dick worked for him. Although Dick had managed to wrestle his way out of that, (taking the better part of nine months) he hadn't come away unchanged. As Nightwing he was more aggressive towards people, but he'd learned how to overcome his fear and anxiety. He wasn't going to let Slade manipulate him again.

"Do you think that I want to ask you for help?" Slade asked. "I need you to convince her to escape, once we get in to take her out. She won't listen to me."

"Oh, and you think she'll pay attention to me?"

"Who doesn't pay attention to Batman?" Slade shrugged. "Of course, she's normally she's not the kind of woman who needs saving. But since I'm the only one capable of saving her she will refuse to be rescued by me. I can't have that."

"But you're divorced."

"Just because we're not together doesn't mean that I've stopped caring about her." He looked at Dick, an odd expression on his face. "Sometimes you don't know how much you care about someone until she's gone. Dead...alive...tortured to insanity...lost in time..." Dick fidgeted at this. "I thought that you of all people, Dick, would understand that."

Dick bristled.

"We're in the same position, aren't we?" Slade said, facing him. They were very nearly the same height. Dick had always lamented that he would be on the shorter side, but his personality more than made up for his height. He subconsciously straightened as Slade stepped closer. "Our loved ones are gone and we're both searching for them. Why not work together?"

"You tried to kill Bruce ten years ago. Why would you help me?" Dick snorted. "Besides, I don't want your help. I have all the help I need."

"A ten-year-old who won't listen to you and an aging butler? If Wayne is indeed lost in time, then you have no hope of finding him."

Dick didn't have time for this. Slade's opinions didn't matter, yet they stung with truth. It was true: Dick and Damian had no leads. They had no idea what had happened to Bruce. Even Tim didn't know, and he was more of a detective than Dick was.

Slade moved to grab his arm, but Dick was quicker. The younger man grabbed Slade's wrist, although he did nothing to hurt Slade. Didn't mean that he didn't want to hurt Slade.

"You touch me or anyone I love again and I will hurt you. I'll really live up to Batman's name and put you in a body cast."

"I'm sure you will."

Dick let him go. He didn't have to accept Slade's proposition. Dick had every right to refuse. He should refuse. Yet as he spoke to Slade now, he realized just how much the years had taken their toll on him. Was Slade asking for help because he knew that he was getting on in years?

"Wintergreen was hurt, you know," Slade said in a low voice. "Adeline's kidnappers sent assassins after us."

No matter how much Dick hated Slade he would always remember that Wintergreen was nice to him. Nice in the sense that he never insulted or humiliated Dick, in that he tried to make him feel better about the situation.

"Is he ok?"

"No."

"Where is he now?"

"I was hoping he could stay here."

"Is he already here?"

"No, he's not. I couldn't move him from the Haunt. He was almost bludgeoned to death." Slade glanced to the side as he said this, his words forced. "He's alive, but barely. He lost consciousness from blood loss..."

Well, that was a roundabout way of saying that Wintergreen was dying. A sort of numbness ate at Dick's insides. While he couldn't say that he thought of Wintergreen as a close friend, he had been one of the closest things he had to one. And Slade's reaction to the whole thing...

Never expected to see Slade so worried, Dick thought. Or so frightened.

"You owe him," Slade said quietly. "Even if you refuse to help me, at least help him when I leave."

I owe him, Dick thought, musing over those words.

That was just more manipulation on Slade's part. But if Wintergreen really was dying, then Dick couldn't stand aside and do nothing. Wintergreen had never been the source of his problems. In this sense Slade was right: the least Dick could do to repay Wintergreen was help him survive. If anything, Dick would agree to that.

"I'm not asking you to hurt anyone," Slade said, "I'm asking you to help her. Help him. Isn't that what you do nowadays? Help people?"

What would Batman do?

Considering everything, everything, Batman would not help Slade. But would he help Adeline Kane, the woman who used to be married to Slade Wilson? Then again, everyone was right: Dick wasn't Batman. He never wanted to be Batman. He didn't have to be Batman.

"Wintergreen is still in Jump?"

"Yes. I have Sladebots monitoring him."

"I'm sending the Bat-Plane over. We can't put him in the hospital for obvious reasons, but I'll contact Leslie Thompkins. She's a good doctor. She'll take care of him. Whoever is after you won't find him here." Dick held up a hand as Slade opened his mouth to speak. "Don't thank me just yet. Get him out of there."

Watching Slade follow his orders wasn't as satisfying as it should have been. Being asked for help was the last thing Dick expected Slade Wilson to do.

"Prep the infirmary, Alfred," Dick said, still watching Slade leave the penthouse. "We'll be hosting a guest."

-DW-

The penthouse

Basement

Wondering what Grayson was up to and who had called the house, Damian made his way back to his room. He intended to shed his uniform for more suitable civilian clothing. As he walked, a soft alarm bleeped.

Hmm. Someone was at the front door. Sighing, Damian turned on the intercom and spoke. "Identify yourself."

"Damian!" a familiar voice exclaimed as the camera adjusted. "Let me in, will ya?"

Harper. How irritating. Harper's daughter, Lian, followed behind him. Although nearly the same age, her immaturity irked him. Actually, Harper's immaturity irked Damian as well. How the man was qualified to raise a child...

"Why are you here?"

"Do we need a reason to see friends?"

"As a matter of fact—" Damian began.

"Good evening, Roy, Lian," Alfred cut-in. "I'll let you in."

"TT."

"Be polite," Alfred chided as he buzzed the door open. "See them inside."

Grumbling curses, Damian turned around and stalked to the front door. His neutral expression didn't change as he opened the door to let them in.

"Where's Dick?"

"In the living room."

Harper's boisterous attitude grated him, however he was different from Grayson. From the few times that Damian had seen Arsenal in action, he could tell that Harper's temper had a shorter fuse. He was more liable to burst out with angry expletives than Grayson. Damian followed the Harpers to the living room where, to his utmost surprise, Grayson sat dejectedly on the edge of a sofa. He held a cold beer bottle to his forehead, as though fighting a terrible migraine.

Pennyworth stood next to Grayson, slightly hunched over as he talked to him in a low voice. Once all of them had stampeded into the room, Pennyworth straightened. Grayson's face brightened once he looked up and saw Harper.

"Roy!"

"How are you doing, man?" Harper wrapped him in an embrace. "Thought we should stop by!"

"Great!" Grayson looked at the bottle in his hand before handing it to Roy. "When you say 'we' do you mean that Lian—whoa!"

The little girl practically flew into Grayson's arms. He swept her into a hug and kissed her on the forehead.

"It's good to see you, sweetheart!"

All this hugging almost made Damian sick. Just watching this "lovefest" was revolting enough. Why bother with all this sentimentality? It just made one weak. And enemies exploited weaknesses.

TT, Damian thought. He's too sentimental to be Batman.

Yet Damian kept watching. Grayson smiled a lot, far more than he should. It was just a personality quirk to be sure, but considering Grayson's history...

Why does he smile so much? Damian asked himself.

Cheerful people baffled Damian. Of course, he knew that he himself had a difficult time being cheerful. An assassin shouldn't be cheerful. Batman shouldn't be cheerful.

"Lian, Damian, I need to talk to Roy alone."

What was Grayson up to? Shaking his head, Damian let the matter pass. If it was important he would know soon.

Having no intention to interact with Lian, Damian strode back downstairs. The R-Cycle needed some repairs. He would work on that until the Harpers left. To his great annoyance, Lian hummed as she followed him.

"I saw you on the TV yesterday."

"Considering the ridiculous amount of media coverage on Batman and Robin, I am not surprised."

He didn't even turn to look at her. There was no need to. To work efficiently he needed to tune her out. As she followed him he took out his toolkit and began to repair the R-Cycle. A few minutes later something light hit him on the back of the head.

"Don't you know how to have fun?"

Scowling, he turned to face her. "Defenestration is my idea of fun."

"Your big words don't impress me, poopface."

"Your puerile words are hardly insulting, Harper."

He had no time for games, much less banter with Arrowette. While he admired her skills he did not wish for mindless social interaction.

"Why are you such a party pooper?"

"I hardly see how defecation has anything to do with me."

"It's an expression, Dami. You're way too serious."

"Don't call me that. I don't appreciate nicknames."

She rolled her eyes. "I only put up with you because I like Dick. And because Dad tells me to."

"Then why won't you leave me in peace?"

"Because this is way too much fun."

Sticking her tongue out, she made an inappropriate noise. God, Grayson thought he was socially inept. She was a right little terror.

"Why don't we see what Dad and Uncle Dick are up to?"

"I have no desire to—"

Grabbing his hand, Lian tugged him away from the R-Cycle.

"Unhand me you harlot—"

"Where is your sense of adventure, Dami?"

"Non-existent," he muttered as he allowed Lian to pull him back upstairs.

-RH-

Penthouse

Gotham City

"What's up?"

"You just missed him," Dick said quietly.

"Missed who?"

"Slade."

That name made any cheer Roy felt dissipate almost at once. A strange feeling of protectiveness overcame Roy, rather like protectiveness over another sibling. No one had any right to hurt Dick, especially not after Slade had traumatized him. Out of all the heroes, Dick Grayson was the one person everyone trusted. And, just as the apprenticeship crisis demonstrated, they would all flock to his aid.

"What the hell does he want?"

"He wants me to help him find his wife. Well, his ex-wife."

"You didn't accept, did you?" Roy asked.

"I'm not helping him. I'm helping her."

"No, you're helping him help her."

"What's your problem, Roy?"

"Dick, you shouldn't even have considered it."

"Do you think that I haven't thought about that?" Dick snapped. "Think about Joe. He doesn't know that his mom is in danger."

"Then leave it to him. Let Slade and Joey bond over that."

"They can't work together. Like it or not, I am the only person aside from Miss Kane who has been trained to work with Slade."

Anger soon replaced Roy's pity. "Listen to yourself: you still think the way he wants you to think!"

His words stung, and Roy knew it. Forget the fact that Dick was his friend. He needed to be verbally abused for even thinking like that. For a moment Roy thought that Dick was going to punch him. Avoiding Roy's eyes, Dick muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I can back out any time I want to."

"No. Once you're in you can't get out."

"I did it once before."

"Yeah, and that took you a year."

"Nine months."

"Whatever. The point is that you can't help everyone. You just can't." Roy's face darkened. "And whatever Slade said, you don't owe him anything."

Surprise momentarily crossed Dick's face before his expression became guarded once more. "You don't think I know that? I worked for Deathstroke. I know exactly how he works, so don't lecture me—"

A sudden noise started them both. Spinning around, Roy saw Lian stumbling into the living room. How much had they heard? This wasn't the kind of argument he wanted the kids to hear. Damian, who had evidently been harassed into coming upstairs by Lian, gazed in disbelief at Dick.

"What is this?" Damian demanded. "You? Working with Deathstroke?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that, Damian..." Dick said weakly.

"Complicated? Then make it simple."

To Roy's great surprise Dick exploded.

"It's not simple, Damian! You think you're entitled to criticize me, but you have no right to! You don't think that anyone understands you, but guess what I'm the only person who can! I've been through the same crap as you. You...I...me..."

He collapsed back onto the couch and hung his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you, but I guess I should. Give me some time."

Shock crossed Damian's face. How odd. Roy had never expected to see that expression on Damian's face. Yet times like these reminded Roy that Damian was still a little kid, even if he didn't show it often.

"Lian, I think it's time to go," Roy said. "They need some time alone."

As Lian left the room Roy glanced at Dick. "You haven't told him?"

Dick shot him a strained look. "Ten years, Roy, and I'm still acting like him when I don't mean to."

Turning back towards Damian, Dick shut his eyes tightly. As Roy left he heard Dick talking softly to Damian. However, whatever words he could hear he tuned out. Ten years later and this was still a touchy subject for Dick. He thought that his friend had gotten over it, but perhaps he was allowing himself to feel this way in order to relate to Damian. Who knew?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.   
> A/N: Again, while this is a sequel of sorts I tried to write it so that anyone can read this.

Chapter 3: Making Plans

-TD-

Titans Tower

Jump City

Bruce is out there,Tim thought. He has to be. All he had to do was find the pieces and put them together. The light from several television screens lit his pale face, highlighting the dark bags under his eyes. He sipped a cup of coffee, that barely did anything to energize him. A soft bleeping noise alerted him to an incoming call.

"Afternoon, Roy," Tim said, still focused on his work. "How are you?"

"Fine. I called to talk to the other Titans. Are they in?"

"Be more specific."

"I need to talk to Star or Victor."

"Why? What's up?"

"Are they here?"

"No. It's only me. "What happened?"

"Deathstroke just swung by Gotham to see Dick."

"Isn't he the guy who forced him to become Nightwing?"

"In a roundabout way. Look, there was no harm done, but Slade asked a favor of him. I don't think he should do it."

Hmm.

"What did Dick say?"

"He didn't say, but I think he wants to help Slade."

Tim nearly choked on his coffee. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Tim sat up straighter and set aside his mug.

"My exact reaction," Roy said. "Look, I think Star can help him. I know they're not together anymore, but she really helped him get over the apprenticeship."

The apprenticeship. That hushed-up, never-spoken of time that had crushed Dick's soul. While Tim knew that it had been a trying time, there really was no need to look into it. Now, though...

"Why would he even consider?" Tim asked.

"Oh, this isn't the first time. He's so damn altruistic at times. He feels as though he needs to help everyone."

"Even Slade?"

"Oh, yeah. He had the chance to put him in jail...could've killed Slade once or twice, but he didn't. Won't tell me why, but I have my suspicions."

"It's called Stockholm Syndrome, Roy," Tim said dryly. "From what people have told me, that's what happened. It doesn't have to be love or whatever, just sympathy for the captor."

"You didn't know him then, Tim!"

Startled, Tim held up his hands and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry. You're right: I can't comment on that."

"Damian just found out and he's not happy."

Of course.

It was no great secret that Tim disliked Damian. Out of all the candidates for Robin, Dick just had to pick him. Although Tim loved Dick like an older brother, sometimes he was way too nice. That's what got him in trouble most of the time. Made him let Slade go when he had the opportunity to arrest him. How illogical.

Slade deserved to be in jail. Although Tim wasn't as personally involved with Deathstroke, he had fought against him with the Titans. Even if the whole apprenticeship was forgotten Slade's other crimes justified his capture.

"Starfire's not on Earth right now," Tim said, "she's off-planet."

"Tamaran?"

"Yeah. Family business. I thought you knew."

"A lot's been going on lately."

"I'll let them know you called," Tim said. "Later, Roy."

Although he was not completely involved with the Titans, Tim still needed them. If Dick was going to be an idiot, then fine. Uneasiness twisted Tim's stomach. He didn't like this.

-DW-

Penthouse

Gotham City

The story was told quickly, like an unpleasant dose of medicine, and almost too quickly for Damian to understand clearly. Grayson stumbled over his words, fumbling the details and correcting himself every other line or so. After a few minutes his speech fell into a natural rhythm and his story become more coherent. Everything fell into place.

"Being Robin is more than just a title," Grayson said. "How much are you willing to give up to save the people you love? That's the question you have to ask yourself daily, Damian."

In that moment Damian couldn't possibly call Grayson weak. He was inclined to, of course, but at the same time he realized that Grayson was indeed like him. He had training as an assassin. That should have changed everything. Sniffing, Damian placed his hands behind his back and glanced at Grayson, his expression impassive. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sometimes...sometimes..." Grayson stared off into space, trying to gather his thoughts. "Even you find it hard to talk about your childhood."

"Pathetic, Grayson," he wanted to say, but his mouth could not form those words. Not when Grayson looked so down.

What is the proper social protocol? Damian thought. What should I say? What should I do?

Coddling another human being was out of the question. Damian simply did no such thing. Yet as he stood there, watching his mentor tremble, he felt inadequate. Powerless. Despite his extensive training, he didn't know how to comfort someone else.

A weak smile spread across Grayson's face. "But everything's okay now. They're not in danger anymore."

Oddly sentimental, that's what Grayson was. Damian said nothing. He was quietly analyzing Grayson's story, trying to tie it all together. How could he have guessed this? None of this was in the archives. Of course, he was more concerned about his father's past than Grayson's, but still...

"Of course, it seems as though Robins get all the bad luck."

Indeed. One forced to retire early, one dead. One nearly driven insane by the Joker. Not a good track record. Given the circumstances, Damian intended to improve his career's lifespan. His skills were far superior than that of any Robin before him, so the chances of that happening were good.

"I'll make sure that nothing bad happens to you."

To Damian's horror Grayson moved forwards, arms extended as though he wanted a hug. A split second later Grayson allowed his arms to fall to his side. Without another word he turned around and left the room. Dark thoughts tumbled in Damian's head as Pennyworth strode into the room, a worried expression on his face.

"Do be nicer to him, won't you?" Pennyworth asked.

"Does he believe me to be a simpleton?" Damian asked, his tone a little incredulous. "He was lying. He didn't tell me everything."

"That's because he can't make himself do that," Pennyworth said quietly. "Even I don't know everything. Your father wasn't told the full story either."

Pennyworth didn't know everything? What was missing from the narrative, then? Did Grayson merely highlight the events that concerned him and the Titans? Or him and Batman?

"It doesn't matter," Damian said finally. "I have better things to do with my time."

-DG-

Infirmary

Gotham City

"You know, Alfred," Dick said, "I vowed that I wouldn't make any more mistakes, that I wouldn't allow anyone else to fall into Slade's trap."

Dick thought himself smart enough to evade the mistakes he made as a teenager, but maybe he hadn't matured at all in ten years.

"Terra's death wasn't your fault," Alfred said.

"I had every chance to stop it," Dick replied. "I should have stopped it."

Putting aside all of Slade's family problems, he was still a villain. Yeah, Dick sympathized with him, but he really hoped that Slade would see the error of his ways. That was a mistake. Everything he had ever done was a mistake. Why did so many people trust him? Why?

"You didn't know she was working undercover for Slade."

"It was my job to see thewarning signs. It doesn't matter if she betrayed us willingly; I could have saved her."

So much suffering. Things had gone from bad to worse when he came back to lead the Titans. What kind of a leader was he, anyway? One that always had to abandon his friends for the greater good?

"And Jason's death?" Dick asked. "I try so hard to protect people, and look what happens! They die anyway!"

Why did Bruce have to leave him like this? Alone? Without any sort of guidance to find him? Well, that wasn't to say that Dick couldn't function on his own. He was perfectly capable of handling himself in the face of danger. But this was different. Dick was supposed to be Nightwing, Bludhaven's capeless crusader. Bruce may have initially trained Dick to take over the mantle but Dick had never seriously considered it...

No. No one had considered it. Yet somehow everyone agreed that Dick should be the one to shoulder this great responsibility. In a sense, things had gotten worse. Friends were murdered. Friends were lost in time. Now, it was mostly up to the younger generation of heroes to keep the peace, and that was not nearly enough.

"Do you even know the woman?" Alfred asked.

"Adeline Kane? I met her once or twice." He shook his head. "Never mind. We'll talk about this later. I need to make sure that Wintergreen is okay."

Alfred followed him to the medical center, as though suspicious of this "Wintergreen" character. Slade had brought Wintergreen over earlier that night while Dick was explaining everything to Damian. Leslie had come and gone. Wintergreen's condition, she said, was now stable. If something went wrong Dick or Alfred were supposed to call her back.

"Who is he?" Alfred asked. "You hardly mentioned him."

"He's like you," Dick said, opening the door. "He keeps his friends sane."

Wintergreen lay unconscious on a gurney. Slade had made sure that his old friend was well-cared for; he already had the IV drip and heart monitor set up. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his head. Although it looked new, it definitely needed to be replaced. Almost immediately Alfred moved forward .

"Don't exert yourself," Dick said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take care of this."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Alfred, let me help him." He turned to look at the older man. "I'll...I'll explain everything later. I need to do this."

After a moment Alfred nodded and left. Dick opened a briefcase full of medical supplies. Ten years. Too late now for a thank-you card.

I did say thanks, though, he thought. Just once. The night before all hell broke loose.

Shivering at the memory, he went to work. He pulled back Wintergreen's eyelids and shone a light into his eyes. Uneven pupils. Definite concussion. Serious brain-damage. Hopefully nothing permanent.

He needs to be at a hospital, Dick thought, not here. None of us are doctors aside from Leslie.

Then again, there were times when he needed to be in the hospital and he never was. From the looks of things, Leslie managed to save Wintergreen. He carefully unwrapped the bandage around Wintergreen's head, which was crusted in dried blood.

"Ouch."

Dick started at the noise. Looking down, he suddenly realized that Wintergreen was awake. The old man looked immensely tired and beaten-down.

"You had a major concussion. You shouldn't move."

"I've had worse."

"I used to say the same. Lying doesn't make the pain go away."

"It helps sometimes."

Dick checked the IV drip and sighed. Well, in a sense that was true as well. Wasn't Wintergreen a former soldier like Slade? A prisoner-of-war in Vietnam? He might have mentioned it once or twice. Dick didn't know. He was usually on the cusp of consciousness whenever Wintergreen had been around.

"Are you helping me because Slade said that you owe me?"

"No. I'm helping you because it's the right thing to do."

"You don't have to work with Slade. Don't do anything you don't want to."

Dick paused. "Do you want Adeline back?"

"I want her to be safe."

"Then I'll go."

A weak hand encircled his wrist. "Don't go on my account."

Carefully disengaging Wintergreen's hand from his wrist, Dick set it gently down. He said nothing. Wintergreen, though just a butler, wasn't the kind of person to talk down to. Like Alfred, he deserved respect, far more respect than he would ever pay Slade.

"Don't you have a family of your own?"

"I've been invested in Slade's family from the beginning," Wintergreen replied. "Everyone...Slade...Adeline...their sons...they are just as good as my family. Just as the Titans are yours."

Again, Wintergreen stopped Dick with a hand on his wrist. Instead of pulling away, Dick hesitantly held Wintergreen's frail hand. He was an old man. A war hero. Just a man trying to help his few friends.

"You're so kind," Wintergreen said. "You have every reason to hate me, but you don't. You have every means to kill us for what we've done to you. Yet in the end you help us."

"It's a constant struggle to do the right thing."

"I know."

Everyone made mistakes. Even during those few times when Dick had despised him for working with Slade, Wintergreen could not be fully blamed.

"In a way, I'm glad to see that you're all right. I might not have gotten to know you well, but after everything I watched you endure, I practically began to root for you." Wintergreen smiled weakly. "I'm sorry you had to go through so much grief. Thank you, Dick."

Words escaped him. A sudden rush of emotion flooded through Dick. Sympathy and gratitude and kinship and other emotions he could not name tightened his chest. This man, who watched and did nothing, who Dick should rightfully be furious at, was thanking him. But anger wouldn't be the right response. Dick couldn't be angry. Ever.

"Take care, Will," Dick said. "You'll always be welcome here."

-SW-

Penthouse

Gotham City

The following day Slade agreed to meet in Batman's new headquarters. It was a nice penthouse, from what Slade could tell. Dick had certainly moved up in the world since they'd last had a heart-to-heart chat.

A young boy stood in the doorway, a sullen scowl marring his face as he caught sight of Slade waiting. Ah. Little Wayne. Dick called out to Slade as he walked down the hallway, carrying a stack of papers in his arms.

"Sorry I'm late, Slade, I—"

Startled at the sight of Damian, Grayson shifted the papers underneath an arm and placed a free hand on Damian's shoulder, speaking to him in a quiet voice. The boy's eyes lingered on Slade before he marched off. Slade's attention shifted from Damian to Dick.

Ten years. Grayson was a man now. Instead of working for Slade he would be working with him. But Grayson was a people person now, wasn't he? If there was anyone who had allthe connections in the cape community it would be him. Sure, he'd had them before, but after the apprenticeship Grayson had built up his networks. Pretty good ones, too.

Dick shut the door. "Does Joey know anything about this?"

"Not at the moment."

"He has the right to know."

"He has other concerns."

"And his mother isn't one?" Dick's lips twitched into a frown. "If you won't tell him then I will."

"I'm his father, and I say that he stays out of this."

"He's an adult. You have no authority over him."

"I'm still his father."

Slade was perfectly aware of what Dick thought of his parenting skills, so there was no need for further comment. Still, Dick had acquired a hard, judging glare that seemed unbecoming of his personality. It was different from that guarded look he had often assumed during the apprenticeship, which some took for barely concealed anger. He didn't try to conceal his emotions. Perhaps pretending to be the Batman required that judging look, because the Batman couldn't afford a guarded expression or any other sign of weakness. But Dick was better than that.

"So why are you Batman and not Drake?" Slade asked, trying to keep his voice casual. "I thought you said that you didn't want to be Batman."

"I can imitate him the best." Dick's eyes never left the computer screen. "I was the only Robin raised by him. So now I'm Batman. Haven't been Nightwing for a few months now."

Really? Slade raised an eyebrow. Sure, he knew that little Wayne was the grandson of Ra's al-Ghul, but did Bruce Wayne detest the lineage so much that he abandoned his own son? Out of all the Robins (Slade found it rather amusing that Batman had acquired an army of Robins over the past ten years) Dick was the only one Bruce Wayne had cared enough about to raise as his own. Drake was adopted later in life, and Todd was...an oddity. The successive Robins were merely on the periphery, never fully under Wayne's wing even when they needed to be.

"I'm not asking for Batman's help," Slade said. "I'm asking for Nightwing's."

"Yeah, well, no use complaining about that." Dick rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows that Nightwing used to work for you. Wouldn't be good for my image if I was seen working with you again."

"Since when have you cared about image?"

"The apprenticeship had lasting effects," he snapped quietly, "It took me a long time to convince Bludhaven that I was working for the greater good. That I wasn't you."

"Your connection to me helped you. Don't lie."

"You want my help or not?" Heh. Dick's glare could have killed a small animal. "What does Adeline do, anyway?"

"She works for the government."

"Secret agent?"

"You could say that."

"Has she ever been assigned to track you down?"

"That's hardly her division. Even if you do consider me a domestic terrorist she's concerned with terrorism abroad."

"Be more specific. I thought you liked details."

"Don't push me, boy. She's been captured by Middle Eastern terrorists. Quraci, I believe. I'm not sure. I don't know much, except that they hired American mercenaries to kill me."

Did Dick even care? Why should he care? He had no reason to. If he didn't want to help, then there was nothing to make him.

"I thought you would be capable of rescuing her yourself," Dick said. "Why do you need someone to help you?"

"You speak Arabic?"

"I understand it a bit. Can't speak it."

"But the little one can."

Grayson shot him a cold look. "Damian stays out of this."

"Why? He's your Robin. Bring him with us."

"I'd like to keep him away from bad influences."

"Doesn't matter. He's already had too much of that." Slade smirked. "He's smart for his age. Probably knew more than you did at ten."

"Stop it, Slade." The younger man rose to his full height (which, to be honest, wasn't that tall), his expression stony. Why was it that every time they met they had to face off like idiots?

"He doesn't trust you," Slade said, "Let him trust you."

"I never asked you for advice."

"Who else can you get it from, now that Wayne is gone?"

A vein in Dick's temple ticked as he considered Slade, his arms crossed over his chest. After a long minute the younger man merely huffed in disapproval. "We keep Damian and Joey out of this. Deal?" Dick held out a hand.

"Fine."

They shook hands. In unison they turned back towards the computer screen. Whatever Dick thought, Slade was going to run this mission. Just because the kid was now Batman didn't give him any authority.

"The plan is to head over to continental Europe. From there we'll make our way to wherever they are holding her." Slade pointed at the screen. "She's somewhere around there."

"What was she doing?"

"I don't know."

"The great Slade Wilson doesn't know." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Glad you admit it this time around."

"Grow up," Slade snapped. "Right now I don't care about annoying you. I want her back."

If Addie had been in trouble when he was trying to recruit Dick, then Slade would have abandoned everything to look for her. Divorced they may be, but Slade had never quite stopped loving her.

"Sorry. Your hubris gets in the way of a lot of things."

Whatever made Slade believe that this was a good idea? Dick could act like a brat when he wanted to, albeit in a more sophisticated manner. Maybe working with Dick wasn't the greatest idea.

Dick shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about this."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Weight of the Cowl

-DW-

Penthouse

Gotham City

Grayson's story haunted Damian throughout the night. Damian was fairly certain that Grayson hadn't told him the whole story, though he didn't know how to prove it.

Working with Deathstroke after all he went through...he thought. Why didn't Grayson kill him when he had the chance?

Staring at the ceiling, Damian closed his eyes to block out the first rays of the morning sun. Waking up this early was habit for him. It wouldn't do to waste more time. By the time the sun had fully risen he was ready for the day.

To Damian's surprise, Grayson was already up, albeit still in his night clothes and his face unshaven. Infuriating slob. The lazy bum usually slept in late. Pennyworth, of course, had breakfast prepared. Harper was speaking to Grayson over a cup of coffee.

"You have your own cities and villains to worry about," Grayson said in a low voice.

"Yeah, well, there's no reason why I shouldn't worry about you."

"I have my contacts on alert," Grayson said. "Even Jared Holden."

The name meant nothing to Damian, but Harper raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Really, now?"

"I still have unfinished business to work out." Grayson ran a hand through his irritatingly-long hair. "Lots of it."

"I thought you lost contact with him."

"Being Batman has its perks. I talked to Jared and warned him that Slade is on the move. I'm not sure what Slade's game is this time, but I want to make sure he doesn't try to double-cross us."

Most of the conversation meant nothing to Damian. Harper and Grayson were talking about people Damian didn't know and didn't care to know.

Father is a detective. Grand-father thought that he was the perfect heir to the al-Ghul empire. By all means, Damian should have inherited his father's detective skills. Therefore, whatever Grayson was hiding, Damian would eventually find out.

"Morning, grumpy-face," Grayson said when he caught sight of Damian. "Sleep well?"

"Knowing that Deathstroke can just waltz in here whenever he wants to? No, of course not."

"Not a morning person," Grayson said to Harper, smirking a little. "Gets it from his dad, I'm sure."

Quips were useless. Why did Damian feel like the onlymature person at this table? Didn't Grayson feel the least bit uneasy about Deathstroke, especially after that sob story yesterday?

Don't goad him, a voice warned. Grayson isn't as much of a pushover as you think.

"Thank you, Pennyworth," Damian said as Alfred handed him his cup of morning tea. "Now, what sort of half-witted rescue plan have you been plotting, Grayson?"

Though Damian preferred to stay in the States, he did not mind having to go to Qurac as Robin. In fact, Grayson wouldn't look like an American fool if Damian accompanied him. True, Qurac wasn't his homeland, but speaking Arabic would help even if he didn't speak the local dialect.

"No plan of mine is ever half-witted." Grayson chuckled. "Sometimes you just gotta wing it."

"Having been trained under the world's greatest tactician, I expected better from you."

"Damian!" Pennyworth's normally calm voice rose in sudden sharp anger. All three young men turned to look at the butler, who was wielding a frying pan menacingly. "Apologize!"

"It's all right, Alfred." Grayson's voice never changed. "He will understand...Leave him be."

"It is not something to joke about," Alfred cut-in. "Master Dick, how could you possibly allow...?"

"He'll learn," Grayson said quietly.

Ominous. Considering his own background, Damian felt no fear, only mild concern for the state of his tea. No sugar. Sugar dilutes the pure, raw taste of the exquisite Arabian tea leaves. Pity that Damian could not culture Grayson. If Damian must train under this American then he had to have some manners.

"Ms. Kane currently resides in Qurac, yes?" Damian asked. "That's quite a trip for us."

"You're not coming, Damian."

It took a moment for Damian to register those words. Forbidden to go? Inconceivable! Damian used the calmest, most polite tone he could muster.

"Pardon?"

"I forbid you to come with me." Dick turned towards Alfred and Roy. "Alfred, I don't want to burden you. I'd like Roy to take care of Damian."

"Preposterous!" Damian exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "You cannot leave me with this incompetent archer!"

"What?" Roy choked on his coffee. "You serious, man?"

"Alfred is more than capable of handling Damian, but he needs to learn how to make friends."

Harper seemed just as outraged as Damian. "What in God's name—"

"Chill, Roy. You don't have to take care of him by yourself. I've asked others to drop in." Dick turned back to Damian. "Make a Facebook account, I don't care how you do it. That's your assignment while I'm gone."

"Unacceptable!"

"Make sure he's in bed by ten," Grayson said to Harper."Oh, and check for any knives. If you need help call Alfred."

"Why can't Alfred just take care of him?" Harper asked.

"He needs to make friends. Lian seems to like him."

"That's a lie!" Damian exclaimed. Why wasn't anyone paying attention to him? Young he may be, but Damian had the mind of a trained assassin, one worthy to take up the cape-and-cowl. "What, am I no longer needed, Grayson?"

Grayson paused. "Never think that, Damian," he said. "I do have an assignment for you: watch over Wintergreen for me, will you?"

"Why?" Damian demanded.

"He is a friend, Damian."

"He is Deathstroke's ally."

"Just do as I say." Dick paused. "Address him properly, too. He's Major Wintergreen."

Making him stay behind and babysit a cripple and go out on patrol with the Harpers? What sort of nonsense was this? He might as well go back to his mother if he wasn't needed.

"I'm sorry, Dami," Grayson said, "I don't want you coming. This is something that I have to do alone."

Alone. Well, being Batman was a solitary occupation. Robin was a lowly occupation, one that Damian deigned to take because of his father's wishes. Well, he assumed that it was his father's wishes.

"Very well," Damian replied in a tight voice, "I shall babysit the invalid."

"Knock it off! Be respectful!"

This was a fight he wasn't going to win. No matter how much Damian disliked Grayson's attitude, there was a reason why he was Batman. "Of course, Grayson. I understand."

-DG-

Penthouse Basement

Gotham City

Criticisms haunted Dick as he stood in front of the glass case holding Bruce's costume. Wearing the original Batman costume had been out of the question. Physically, Bruce and Dick were different. Dick didn't have enough muscle to fill out the costume. The costume he wore now was designed to imitate the original, but also to enhance Dick's natural acrobatic abilities.

He held Bruce's cowl in his hands and stared at it for a long while. Dick rested his head against the cowl, as though hoping he could will Bruce back into being.

"Why did you leave me here?"

Nothing about this was fair. Dick wasn't ready for this, any of the leadership or the stress or—

If I'm not ready now, then when will I be?

Despite the insanity that had followed Bruce's decision to fight crime, Dick did not regret anything. Even though he'd had serious doubts during his time as Slade's apprentice, everything had worked out in the end. This was a simple rescue mission. So long as they got in and out of Qurac safely, Dick could continue looking for Bruce.

What if he doesn't come back? A shudder ran through him. I'm no longer a child. He helped me. I have to carry on the legacy.

It was his duty to be Batman. Even when Dick didn't want to he knew that he had to step into the cape-and-cowl. No one else was qualified enough. Jason had gone rogue, Tim was still too young...and Jean-Paul was too unpredictable. Not that he didn't like Jean-Paul, but last time he had donned the cape-and-cowl Dick had to stop him. And now Slade...

Deep, calming breaths. Be calm about this, Grayson. As he breathed deeply, he caught a whiff of Bruce's fading scent. Traces of his cologne still lingered on the cowl. A lump formed in Dick's throat as he fought back tears. What was worse? Having Bruce's life threatened by Slade, or knowing that he may be gone forever?

Without a chance to say goodbye?

"I miss you," he said in a choked voice. "Please, come home."

-RH-

Penthouse Rooftop

Gotham City

Despite Dick's protests, Roy and Alfred accompanied him to the rooftop of the penthouse. A helicopter waited for him. Slade, dressed in civilian clothes and leaning against the 'copter, straightened as he caught sight of them. He extended a friendly hand to Dick, then lowered it when Dick made no move to shake it.

"I've arranged a helicopter to pick us up," Slade said. "It'll drop us off at the airport. From there we'll take a private plane to Europe."

"You would."

Roy sensed a sort of familiarity between them—cautious, yes—but familiar. Like two brothers who constantly spat and never quite made-up. Like everyone else, though, he had protested vehemently against this. Whatever reason Dick had for helping Slade wasn't a good one in Roy's books.

"Morning, Harper," Slade said, turning his attention to Roy. "How's Jade these days?"

"Oh, the usual...Tried to kill me again last week."

"Tough luck. She does that to all her former lovers."

Son of a—

"Cool it, Roy," Dick said warningly. "He likes to taunt."

A sudden roaring filled his ears as another flying contraption hovered over them, distracting Roy. Ah. Good, they came. A familiar green head stuck out of one of the windows. Light glinting off of Gar's obnoxious sunglasses as he waved to them.

"Dudes, sorry we're late," he called out over the roaring of the engine. "Had to sneak the Invisible Jet away from Wonder Woman."

"Shhh, don't tell!" Donna's head popped out beside Gar. "We're only borrowing it."

The whole team landed in front of Dick. In unison they glared at Slade. The mercenary didn't even blink at the amount of hostile powerhouses before him. Donna, in her sparkling black-and-white uniform, landed in front of a bewildered Dick.

"What are you guys doing here?" Dick asked.

"We're here to see you off," Tim said.

"Where's Joey?"

"We're keeping this low-profile," Cyborg said, "We're keeping Slade's end of the deal: Joey doesn't know."

"And that's very much appreciated." Slade's smile seemed off, somehow. Or maybe Roy was just being biased. "Let's keep the cat-fighting to a minimum, shall we?"

In the midst of all these people Dick wasn't paying attention to Slade. Friends were more important than enemies. They always had been. Eye shifting from one Titan to the next, Slade finally turned away from them.

"I'll be waiting in the 'copter, Dick," Slade said. "Make it fast."

Hearing Slade give Dick orders annoyed Roy, but so long as Dick said nothing then Roy would tolerate it. Even so, Dick had a habit of keeping things that bothered him to himself.

Silence actually worries me the most, Roy thought.

"Where's Star?" Dick asked distractedly.

"On Tamaran," Raven said. "Didn't she tell you?"

"Oh."

"She said to call when you have the time," Raven replied gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The little one would like to talk to you anyway."

"Mar'i's there too?" Boy, was he out of touch with the world outside Gotham. "Well...I...Tamaran is probably best for her. Gets her in touch with her family."

"Just call Kory. She wants to talk to you."

Hmm. That sounded ominous.

"Will you be all right?" Donna asked.

"I'll be fine."

No one believed him. Over the years, Roy had watched one of his best friends cope with the fallout of the apprenticeship. Lying about his feelings was one thing Dick was good at.

"If Slade tries anything," Cyborg said, "you call us."  
"I know."

Of course they wouldn't trust Slade. Anyone would be a fool not to...Well, excluding Dick, but even Dick treated Slade cautiously.

Donna hugged Dick tightly. "Be careful, Dick."

In a very soft voice that only those nearest Dick could hear, he replied, "I will." Disengaging himself from her, Dick took a step back. "I'll see you guys later."

A vicious wind whipped his hair over his face. Weariness etched every part of his face and weighed him down. Every fiber of Roy's being told him to stop Dick from leaving, but Dick was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

"Come on," Slade called out. "Let's go."

And just like that, one of Roy's best friends turned and followed his former arch-nemesis into the helicopter. They watched the helicopter take off as Dick waved to them from the window.

"I still don't like this," Roy said.

"Neither do we," Cyborg replied. "I got in contact with Knight and Squire. If anything funny happens, they'll be on it."

European contacts went a long way. If Jade were still on their side, then Roy would have asked for her to watch out for unusual activity. Then again, Slade did hire her to take out the Titans...

Everyone's constantly switching sides.

"Dick knows, right?" Beast Boy asked. "You know he'll be pissed if you don't—"

"Everything has been arranged according to Master Dick's approval," Alfred said coolly. "If there is a problem we will know."

"Are you worried, Alfred?" Roy asked.

"I'm always worried." Alfred glanced to the side. "Every time he leaves the house with a costume on I'm always worried he'll never come back."

He almost didn't, Roy thought.

Traversing the universe, being gone months at a time... that's what being a hero meant: sacrificing time for the sake of other people. If there was something that Roy admired about Dick, it was the fact that he understood that promise the most. Dick understood what it meant to sacrifice himself for the safety of others, though that didn't mean he particularly enjoyed it.

And Damian.

Man, the only person able to control that little terror was flying off with the world's greatest mercenary. Fantastic.

-DW-

Infirmary,Penthouse

Gotham City

Leaving him alone in Gotham was one of the worst decisions Grayson ever made, and that was saying something since Grayson had made plentyof them.

Allowing Grayson to traverse the world without me...

Whoever this old man was, did he deserve the amount of attention Grayson bestowed upon him? Lights flickered on as Damian made his way towards the infirmary.

Dick Grayson he may be, but Batman certainly does not fraternize with mercenaries.

Despite his assassin-upbringing, Damian did not think highly of mercenaries. Making money wasn't a priority. Deathstroke's exploits had certainly been talked about in his mother's house, and though his skills were extraordinary a man like Wilson couldn't be trusted.

"I can hear you, boy."

British. Damian couldn't identify which regional accent, but it didn't matter. Major Wintergreen turned his head to look at Damian, still too weak to move properly.

"TT. I see you have recovered, as per Grayson's request."

Major Wintergreen glanced oddly at Damian. "Been through worse, though I appreciate Richard's concern."

Definitely military, albeit long retired. It was evident in his words and manner.

"Who are you, old man?" Damian asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's your connection to Grayson?"

"Major William Wintergreen, boy. I was there during the apprenticeship. Assuming, of course, that Richard told you of it."

"He mentioned it." Damian sniffed. "Nothing detailed."

"Our relationship is a complicated one. He feels obliged to help me recover because I did the same for him."

Hmm. Grayson neglected to mention Wintergreen's part in all this. A quick summary of the apprenticeship ten years ago and an explanation that Wilson hired Batman to look for his ex-wife was all Damian had received.

"It didn't sound terrible," Damian said finally. "My mother put me through worse training."

"His time with Slade was not a pleasant one, Wayne," Wintergreen said. "No matter your background you should never trivialize violence."

Trivialize violence? Nothing could have been further from the truth. Damian knew how the real world worked. "Enlighten me, Wintergreen."

"I'm certain I kept Richard alive for the duration of his apprenticeship. Slade had no intention of murdering or torturing him, but he damn well came close to it."

"Why didn't you save him, then?"

"A matter of old loyalties." Wintergreen laid his head back down on his pillow. "I feel... so... tired..."

One of the doors opened. Leslie Thompkins, family friend of the Waynes, walked in with a tray of medical tools. "I see you're awake, Major," Thompkins said, "and you've met Damian."

"Of course. Charming, just like his older brother."

"Grayson has no sense of class. I find it insulting that I am legally tied to him."

"Oh, he's not too bad," Wintergreen replied. "Give him a chance."

No. Incompetent fool—Grayson needed assistance. Wherever Batman went Robin was obliged to follow. No, Robin was obliged to correct whatever blundering masterplan he had.

-SW-

Airport

Gotham City

Slade couldn't help but study Dick's face as they boarded his private jet. Asking Dick Grayson, his former apprentice, for help wasn't something Slade had ever planned to do. Hell, asking for any kind of help was beneath him.

Little emotion twisted Dick's face. Impassive. Business-like. More traits he'd picked up from Batman. Neither of them spoke as they took care of their little luggage—travel light, just like I taught you—and prepared for an uncomfortably long flight.

"Everything's ready to go, Mr. Wilson," the pilot said. "Is there anything else you need before we take off?"

"No, thank you."

Dick drummed his fingers against the armrest and avoided eye contact with the pilot as he walked to the cockpit. It took a few seconds for Slade to figure out what was wrong: this was the exact same plane with the exact same pilot they used ten years ago.

"I never asked... but how have you been coping?"

Must he always look so surprised? Might as well break the ice before leaving the States. There was no way they could work together without acknowledging the fact that Dick had worked for him unwillingly for nine months. Slade was aware that Dick agreeing to him help was a miracle unto itself.

"What do you mean?"

"The apprenticeship. I understand that I'm asking a lot of you after what I did." Slade sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"I've learned to live with it," Dick said. "Being always connected to Bruce... to you... ignoring it is second nature now."

Many times Slade had wondered if he held a grudge against Dick for beating him, for humiliating him in front of his "lesser" villainous colleagues. Their relationship was an odd one; sometimes enemies and sometimes hesitant allies.

In the long run it doesn't even matter, Slade thought. I shouldn't worry about my successor. I just have to keep Joey and Addie and Rose and Wintergreen safe.

Neither of them spoke as the plane took off. As the minutes ticked by, Slade was the one who began to feel uncomfortable. What if he made a mistake? What if Dick changed his mind? Dick had assumed a position of authority Slade could never achieve: that of being Batman.

"You have any idea where Wayne is?"

"No. Red Robin's working on that. I have other problems to deal with." Dick's brow furrowed. "I may not go back to being Nightwing."

So, there was a good possibility that Wayne may not return. Preparing to wear the cowl for good was something that Dick had accepted a long time ago. Why did he delude himself into thinking that Wayne would return? The delusion was made even more preposterous by the fact that the other capes believed Dick.

"Why me, Slade?" Dick asked.

Though neither of them mentioned Rose, both knew that she was out of the question. Rose had no ties to Adeline except through her father, and even so Slade still trusted Dick more with a delicate situation such as this. Sometimes Rose was too much like her mother: irrational, unpredictable...

Afterall, he is Batman.

"Wintergreen is my usual companion. You know my technology better than anyone. Unless, of course, you forgot..."

A slight chuckle escaped Slade at Dick's ensuing glare. Almost like old times. Yet, here and now, Slade surprised himself. He had no desire to convince Dick to join him permanently. Just like his mentor, he was taking everything Slade said as a personal offense.

"Forgetting everything you taught me isn't easy. If you work with Wintergreen, then why me? Why not someone else with a better criminal record?"

"You can't let it go, can you?"

"I'm allowed to ask questions."

Batman's supposed death had changed the kid. Dick was serious and mature—far more mature than he had been before. Dealing with the man was so much different than dealing with the boy. But, true to his word, Slade hadn't asked Dick for help just so they could reminisce.

"Aside from knowing my technology and my way of doing things, you're the only person I can trust. You won't double-cross me. If Wintergreen hadn't been injured he would have helped save Addie. So long as I had him with me then there was a chance she would come back with us."

"Your ex is still trying to kill you?"

Slade took out two glasses and poured some brandy. They had a ten hour flight. Might as well have a drink. God knew, Slade needed one. "At least I didn't dump her."

Dick bristled. "Stop that."

Allowing himself a small snicker, Slade gave Dick his glass.

"What are you going to do, jump out of the plane?" Slade leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Relax. Have a drink. We'll make this excursion as painless as possible."

Hiding his worry for Adeline was proving more difficult than Slade imagined. Subtly insulting Dick was better than letting his thoughts dwell on his wife. Was she lying in some ditch? Trapped in a warehouse, bound and gagged? Who could have possibly—

"So why Germany?"

Jerking out of his daze, Slade turned his attention back to Dick. "After Joey started attending college Addie spent some time there with a friend." Slade didn't bother holding back his dislike. "His name's Waller."

"Her current lover?"

"Not sure. Anyway, I have some contacts in Germany. After the rendezvous with Waller we'll restock there and prepare for the move inland towards the Arabian peninsula."

"Let's try not to start a nuclear war." Dick drank a little too quickly. "The Quracis are a bit testy. One wrong move and everyone will end up dead."

"I have no intention of starting a war."

"Good. "

Slade leaned back in his seat. He didn't intend on talking for ten hours. After lowering the shades and dimming the lights, Slade turned on the TV.

"Care for a Clash of the Planets marathon?"

-AK-

Somewhere in Qurac

She opened her eyes to darkness.

Someone—a man—murmured in an unfamiliar language. A few seconds of listening determined that it was Quraci. As her senses came back to her, Addie realized that she was lying on a hard mattress. Dried blood crusted her gray hijab. She reached up and loosened it to touch her head wound. Dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulder as she took it off.

She realized that she was missing her communicator. A quick pat-down of her waist alerted her to the fact whoever kidnapped her took all her weapons. Her shoulders tensed as someone spoke.

"Good evening, Ms. Kane," a male voice rumbled. "I trust you are enjoying your stay in our country?"

"Very accommodating, I see," Addie replied. "I'll be sure to recommend you online."

Getting caught had not been part of the plan. Peering into the darkness did nothing to reveal the identity of her captor. His English was rather good—there was no hint of an accent.

"Do I get the pleasure of meeting my host?" She asked, sitting up. "Or will you forever be a faceless entity?"

Fluorescent lights flickered on. A middle-aged man of Middle Eastern descent stepped into the room. She didn't recognize her host. He wasn't connected with her mission, was he? Terrorists, then, looking for an American? No, her men weren't that stupid, surely... They would have caught on. Where were they, anyway...?

"And you are...?"

"Mr. Matar."

"Care to tell me why I'm here, Mr. Matar?"

"All in due time, Ms. Kane."

She scanned him, searching for any weaknesses. Hmm. Confident. Tailored business suit. Expensive cuff-links. Was he in charge of this whole operation, or was he just a lackey? Addie couldn't be sure.

"We are aware of your current objectives in my country," Mr. Matar said, "Rest assured, we have no interest in your surveillance."

"What happened to my men?"

"Indisposed."

Indisposed? Addie leapt to her feet, indignation and rage bubbling inside her. Was he implying that her men were dead? Before she could speak, Matar lifted up a silencing hand.

"Hold your peace, Ms. Kane. We will tell you what happened to your men once you meet our demands."

"Like hell I will!"

"Try to resist all you want. We know where your son is."

He's with the Titans, Adeline thought. They'll protect him. "Threatening him will do nothing. You must know who his friends are."

"Cooperate with us, Ms. Kane, or we will inform him of your capture."

"Do you really want the Titans after you?"

Mr. Matar frowned. "My employer has ways to deflect any attack upon our headquarters.

My employer.Good. So, Mr. Matar was only a lackey. Whoever was the brains behind this was a lot smarter. Probably more dangerous.

This "Ms. Kane" business was getting old. If Matar decided to call her "Mrs. Wilson" she would have knocked his teeth out. Over ten years she'd been divorced and people still thought she was married.

That's what you get for being Deathstroke's wife.

Why did her thoughts always spiral down to him? Probably because Slade had something to do with this. If anyone tried to kill her outside of her job it was probably Slade's fault. Indirectly, of course.

"What do you want?"

"We need you to make a phone call." Mr. Matar handed her a piece of paper. "This is what you need to say."

A quick glance over its contents baffled Addie. What did this mean? Her forehead wrinkled as she glanced over the demands again.

"Cooperate, Ms. Kane, and you will not be harmed. Indeed, if all goes according to plan no one will be hurt." Mr. Matar inclined his head, his smile forced. "Dinner and a change of clothes will be provided for you tonight. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

Backing away, Mr. Matar retreated from the cell and locked the door. What was the meaning of all this? Addie jumped to her feet and started banging on the door.

"Wait, who are you working for?"

No one answered her.


	5. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the German in this fic was translated by my little brother Panda Bear. Though not a native speaker, he is fluent in the language.

Chapter 5: Catching Up

-RH-

Penthouse

Gotham City

"Damian?" Roy called out to the boy as he would a dangerous animal. He didn't want to treat the kid like one, but Damian did have a reputation. "Aw, hell."

Damian was nowhere in the penthouse, where he was supposed to be waiting for them. After Dick and Slade left, Roy had gone back inside to look for the little terror. As Roy cursed himself Lian skipped into the room.

"He's not in the basement, Daddy."

"Thanks for looking anyway, Angelface."

Hmm. The little snot was going to get it when Roy caught him. If he had decided to go out on patrol without permission—

"It appears as though Master Damian has left the premises," Alfred said.

"Damn it! It hasn't even been a few hours and Damian is missing?"

"I suspect he may have followed Master Dick," Alfred said.

"Wonderful."

That was just what Roy needed to deal with right now. A recent text message from Dick told Roy that the plane had already taken off. Could Damian have gotten to the plane that quickly? Was the R-Cycle missing from the garage?

"If...I may be of assistance..." An older man Roy didn't know hobbled into the room on crutches, every step clearly a painful one.

Alfred immediately strode towards the man, a concerned expression on his face. "Major, you shouldn't be out of bed—"

"To hell with that. If I hadn't been so clumsy I would be in Richard's place." The man forced his way towards the computer console. "Part of this is my fault."

What was he going on about?

"Who is he?" Roy asked, jabbing a thumb at the man.

"Slade's friend, Major Wintergreen," Alfred replied.

"The hell—?" Roy frowned. "Why is he here?"

"He's hurt. Master Dick requested that the major stay here until he recovers."

Doubly wonderful. Dick hadn't told him that Slade's friend was in the freaking penthouse. Why not invite the whole Injustice League and save the time? However, with Lian in the room, Roy decided to keep his opinions to himself. Evidently tired of the small talk, Wintergreen steered the conversation back to Damian.

"If little Wayne is indeed following them, then at least he knows where they're headed, as I do too." Wintergreen clumsily typed in coordinates. "Stuttgart, Germany. I'm sure they'll rendezvous with some of Slade's European contacts before heading out east."

"How can we trust you?" Roy demanded.

"Because Master Dick does," Alfred said quietly.

That was everyone's excuse, wasn't it? Dick trusted people. That's what got him into a lot of messes. There was no doubt that Dick meant well, but his trusting nature caused him to be manipulated by a lot of people.

"Harper, isn't it?" Wintergreen asked.

"Yeah. What about me?"

Wintergreen stopped typing and leaned back in the chair. "I may be Slade's friend, but don't think for a second that I'm going to double-cross you."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I do my best to help Slade, and this mission means a lot to him. His family means the world to him, and Dick knows this. Take away Slade's family and you'll have the villain you always believe him to be."

Was that the reason why Dick let Slade go? Because of family business? Roy had never interrogated Dick on the subject. Yeah, he was one to lecture Dick on letting villains go, after having a child with an assassin. While Roy understood Dick's decision the most, that didn't mean that he thought it was a great idea. Roy's first reaction was to proclaim Wintergreen's assertion as bullcrap, but now was not the time or place for it.

"I often ask myself if there is anything I could do to make up for Dick's lost time," Wintergreen said.

"Did you have a part in the apprenticeship?" Roy asked.

"Yes. As Slade's friend I assisted him. Out of loyalty I said nothing, did nothing." A deep, regretful sigh escaped Wintergreen. "To be honest, I don't think I've ever been quite at peace with myself."

Any objection Roy had towards Wintergreen staying in Dick's home died as he listened to him. "And you let Slade ask Dick to help why?"

"I'm certain Slade regrets his decision as well. My reasons are complex." Wintergreen smiled wryly. "It'll be a waste of time to explain, though. You want to locate the little one; I'll help you."

Of course, Roy didn't like this. But with Bruce and Dick gone, who else could they turn to for help? Controlling Damian wasn't an easy task, but somehow both men managed to do it. If they could do it, why couldn't Roy?

"Fine," Roy said. "Lian and I will search Gotham. If you find out he's left the country let me know right away."

Twenty-four hours hadn't even passed and they already had crap to deal with.

-DG-

Stuttgart, Germany

Dick slept through most of the flight. Ten hours later they arrived in Stuttgart, just as they had planned. If there was anything that surprised Dick, it was the fact that Slade could sit through ten hours of Clash of the Planets. He was a fan? Who knew? Now there was something to tell Gar when he came back.

They didn't waste time lingering. After Slade paid the pilot, they went immediately into the bustling city. Slade seemed to know his way around just fine.

"Come here often?" Dick asked.

"When I have a holiday." Slade shouldered his pack and beckoned for Dick to follow him. "Come on, we have a cab waiting."

It wasn't so much a cab as a private car. What with all of the ammunition they were probably traveling with, Dick wouldn't have been surprised if Slade had arranged their ride beforehand.

"Where are we staying?" Dick asked.

"Francine's house."

"And who is Francine?"

"An old friend of mine," Slade said. "It's all right, she doesn't know about the apprenticeship."

"I didn't say anything."

"It's always on your mind. I can tell."

Why had Dick agreed to this again? Even when Slade wasn't trying to deliberately spite him he somehow managed to get under his skin.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dick replied. "That's ten years behind us. Our conversation on the plane was enough."

Why did Slade keep insisting on talking about this? Was this his way of apologizing? It was a shoddy way of apologizing if it was.

"We're going to have to, sometime."

Dick huffed in reply.

They reached the safe house in silence. An old woman answered the door, her face lighting up at the sight of Slade. Short, late sixties, perhaps. Her gray hair was wrapped tightly in a bun and her small round glasses glinted in the morning sun.

"It's good to see you again, Slade." The old woman kissed Slade lightly on the cheek. "Still handsome as ever, I see."

"Still looking mighty fine, Franny."

"Stop flattering me." She turned her attention to Dick. "And who is this fine young gentleman?"

"My associate, Dick."

"Ma'am—"

"Don't call me 'ma'am,' boy," she replied, winking at him. "I was kicking ass before you were even conceived."

Slade almost laughed out loud at Dick's face. Dick wasn't offended so much as surprised at Franny's attitude. A smirk spread across Franny's face." Enough chitchat, then. I'll get you and Calvin Klein set up."

She walked away and beckoned them to follow, pointing out the guests bedrooms in a loud voice. Slade bent his head and spoke to Dick in a low voice. "Charming woman, isn't she?"

"I didn't know you had friends aside from Wintergreen," Dick mumbled.

"Surprise, surprise."

"Where did you pick up this old fossil?"

"Say that again and she'll snap your neck."

"Charming woman indeed. Why didn't I meet her before?"

"Oh, you would have eventually met my contacts. We never got to do international missions, so there was no need to meet her."

There was something about the way Slade spoke to him that annoyed Dick. What was it? Those little indications of what "could have been," maybe? No doubt Slade was secretly thrilled that they were finally enacting the partnership he had wanted all those years ago.

That was my first thought, but he seems to have mellowed out. He's just annoying me for kicks.

"I don't want to know your friends, Slade."

"You don't have to. Just remember that they're not the source of your problems."

His mind drowned out Franny's voice as Dick found his thoughts wandering. Earlier in life Dick had found it difficult not to blame Wintergreen and other people close to Slade, but as time passed he thought otherwise. However, there were still issues he would struggle through. He knew that, but the thought of working through them on this mission terrified him.

-SW-

Franny's Residence

Stuttgart, Germany

"So what brings you all the way out here, Slade?" Franny asked. "You said something about Adeline—"

"She's been kidnapped, but I'm not sure why. And Will was hurt."

"I'm sorry."

She reached out and squeezed his hand gently. Though Dick understood that Slade was deeply concerned for his hurt friend, Franny understood it on a level Dick could never achieve. Franny had known Slade and Wintergreen in their younger days. She had taught them a few tricks that Slade had never forgotten. Will hadn't either.

"Who's that handsome young man you brought with you?" Franny asked. "I thought you worked alone."

"Without Wintergreen I can't persuade Addie to come home with me. He's a former employee, to put it lightly."

"Not on good terms?"

"You could say that."

"Why is he helping you, then?"

"It's complicated. Right now he's the only one I can trust."

"Why?"

"He's a cape."

"I see."

Capes could be unpredictable. Franny knew that. For people like Slade and Franny, capes were volatile beings who could turn them in to the police at any given moment. However, there was a reason why Slade had chosen Dick Grayson over other heroes he'd worked with before.

"Go get the pretty boy and tell him that dinner's ready," Franny said.

He stopped a stupid comment before it reached his mouth and shrugged. Slade made his way to the guest bedroom—where he presumed Dick was. Dick's door was slightly ajar. Just as Slade was about to call out Dick's name a sudden voice stopped him. Young, girlish... a child's voice.

"Hi Daddy!"

"How's my little Night Star?" Dick asked, sounding ten times more cheerful than he had of late. "Are you and mommy having fun on Tamaran?"

"It's great!"

A little girl with black hair and bright green eyes smiled at the webcam. Realization hit him hard in the gut.

Dick has a child...

Part of Slade told him to leave right then, to allow Dick some peace with his little girl, but another part of him was oddly fascinated. Who knew? Batman had a little girl.

"Is mommy there? Can I talk to her?"

The little Tamaranean flew away in joyful loops, her long dark hair trailing behind her. A few seconds later Dick's former teammate Starfire came into view. She whispered something to the child, who nodded and flew out of sight.

"You know what I am going to say, Dick," Starfire said.

"Kory—"

"Do not talk. I care about you. You know that. If I were not tied to Tamaran at the moment I would forcibly prevent you from working with Slade."

Leave, Wilson. He was intruding in on a family spat. The beautiful Tamaranean was incredibly dangerous. Slade knew that, despite his enhanced skills, if he angered her, he would be in deep trouble indeed.

"It's too late now," Dick replied. "We're on our way."

"Slade has stolen away too much of your life already. I do not wish to see him steal more."

I've stolen time away. Slade had never really thought of it that way before. Besides, the apprenticeship was a relatively short time. Years were required for a full apprenticeship, but Dick did it in nine months. If anything, Dick had saved time.

"Star—"

"I do not trust him. Go back to Gotham to be the Batman."

Despite himself, Slade stayed to listen.

"I know you mean the best for me, but I'm doing this as a favor for Joey, for Wintergreen—for those who tried to help me."

Funny, how everyone around Slade tried to help Dick. Joey admitted that he tried to persuade Dick out of going to Bludhaven, but ultimately failed. Starfire sniffed in disapproval.

"Mar'i needs a father. Do not die or be captured again, for her sake."

A deep sigh of resignation escaped Dick. "I know. I'm sorry I have to do any of this."

Then why do it at all? Slade knew why Dick fought crime. Stupid altruistic reasons, but reasons nevertheless. If he didn't go back to fighting crime—like he was supposed to—then he wouldn't have this problem. True, Slade's profession estranged him from his family, but up to Jackal Slade had had a pleasant family life.

"I love you," Starfire said.

Dick did not respond. Something was holding him back, but what? This wasn't like him. Well, as far as Slade knew.

"I'll talk to you two later."

He switched off the web-cam and leaned over the desk, his shoulders hunched. Slade coughed.

A childish yelp Slade had never expected to hear from Dick filled the room. "Holy strawberries, you scared me." Quickly recollecting himself, Dick straightened and walked right past Slade. "I'd prefer it if you'd not walk in on me, or eavesdrop."

"Old habits die hard." Slade's smirk faded. "I didn't know you had a child."

"Not like I wanted you to know."

"I didn't mean to pry," Slade said. "Franny made us some dinner. I came to get you."

"Fine... good... whatever..." He almost tripped on his suitcase as he made his way to the door. Nervous kid. To get rid of the growing tension Slade began to speak conversationally. "So...you and the Tamaranean—"

"We're not together anymore, if that's what you're asking," Dick snapped. "Wasn't our fault, anyway."

Love affairs of the Titans always made it to the front page of the National Enquirer, somehow. Hell, even the love affairs of the villains made it to the National Enquirer. Slade had been there once or twice. Wintergreen liked to cut out those articles just to spite him.

"Care to tell?"

"You're so nosy. Always butting into my business—"

"I'm sorry. It must be hard." A political marriage, then. That was a logical explanation for her prolonged departure. Or something else must have happened where the alien had to leave Earth for Tamaranean politics. "You don't get to see her often?"

"She's safer on Tamaran. I—" Dick stopped himself. "Never mind. It's none of your business."

"Sorry I asked."

"You're sorry about a lot of things." Avoiding Slade's gaze, Dick walked past him and muttered, "Can't forgive everything."

"Don't be a dick," Slade said. "I won't get offended. I'm not gonna hurt your kid." Slade paused. "Well, kids. Little Wayne counts as yours."

Come to think of it, Grayson wasn't even that old.A twenty-six-year-old with two children he was responsible for, the mantle of Batman to wear, and dealing with business transactions of Wayne Enterprises...

"Let's not talk about this, okay?"

Earlier that day Dick had made the same request. Don't talk about the apprenticeship. Easiest way to start a fight. But Slade was still of the opinion that if they didn't smooth out their problems now it would cause problems later on.

"No, let's."

Dick stiffened, suddenly looking very much like a cornered man. Slade had to give him credit: for the past twenty-four hours, Dick had held his emotions well. Though Dick was now a man, Slade could see the remnants of the insecure teenager in him, the kid that Slade had gotten to know well.

"Really?" Dick asked in a tight voice. "This can't wait until we're done?"

Well, crap. Maybe Slade should have let the issue lie. But working together would mean that one of them was going to have to give orders. They had never trained as partners. They could never work on the same level as Batman and Robin.

"If there is anything that you believe will endanger us on the mission, please say so now."

Allowing Dick to speak his mind could only do so much. It wasn't easy—letting himself be so open in front of Dick. Slade wasn't stupid enough to believe that Dick still didn't suffer from some emotional damage. And though Slade knew that he was responsible for much of it, he also knew that that buried emotional damage could cause Dick to lash out unexpectedly at him. That would be bad for both of them.

"Speak my mind?" Dick asked in a mocking voice. "All right. First, I'm pissed off that you eavesdropped on my conversation with Starfire. Second, I don't want to talk about the apprenticeship with you. I don't care if you've had a change of heart or if you're sorry, because I don't want to hear it."

"You're such a drama queen sometimes. Get over it."

Dick glowered at him. "If you hadn't killed Larry Holden, I might've forgiven you entirely—"

"I had my reasons."

"Then there was Terra—"

"Well, about that—"

SMACK!

Slade's face stung as he fell to the floor, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Uneasy laughter filled the room as Dick leaned against the desk, rubbing his reddened fist gingerly.

"Sorry, Slade. I had to."

Touching his throbbing jaw, Slade re-considered Dick. That punch had power behind it. Getting into a fight with Dick was a bad idea. He wasn't a skinny little brat anymore. It wasn't that Slade was afraid of losing—though he had lost to Dick before—he just knew that even though he could trust Dick there was no telling if he would change his mind about arresting Slade.

"You done?" Slade asked.

Dick flexed his fingers, obviously wanting to punch Slade again, but he restrained himself from doing so. He looked ashamed of himself for losing control.

"BOYS!" Franny yelled. "Stop rough-housing and eat this food!"

"Apologies." Slade glared at Dick. "You heard the woman. Let's go."

"Not if we don't kill each other first."

As Slade turned to leave, he felt Dick grab his arm. "Let's get something straight," Dick said. "You may be the one driving this little operation forward, but I'm not your sidekick."

"I never said you were."

The younger man grabbed a fistful of Slade's shirt and pulled him close. "We have a history of violence, Slade. You're the one who asked for my help. We do things on my terms."

Picked up the intimidation from Batman, then? Mentioning Batman—specifically Bruce Wayne—in a negative manner was another surefire way to make Dick angry.

"You still have anger issues."

"Oh, you're one to talk."

Franny stormed into the room, reached up and yanked Dick down by the collar. "Listen to me young man, you'll talk civilly under my roof. You understand?"

Despite Franny's small stature, she cut an intimidating figure. Slade had learned the hard way not to make her mad. Dick shut his eyes tightly and spoke in a quiet voice. "Sorry, Ma'am."

Franny smacked Dick lightly on the head."Don't call me 'ma'am.'"

"You're not off the hook either, Slade," Franny said, grabbing Slade by the collar. "I will shoot your other eye out if you continue to fight in my house!"

"Understood," Slade said.

"Good."

She let go of both of them and stalked off towards the kitchen. Dick and Slade glanced at each other before following her.

-DW-

Stuttgart, Germany

For two of the world's greatest tacticians, they could be such idiots.

Following Wilson and Grayson to Germany had been child's play. To give their credit, they did attempt to cover their tracks, but Damian's skills were far superior to theirs. His access to his mother's resources and contacts allowed him to follow them without having to hide in the cargo hold. That was beneath him.

He shouldered his pack and glanced up at the street signs. Why would Slade bring Grayson here? Damian assumed it was a stopping point before going straight to Qurac. Gather their bearings, so to speak.

According to the tracker he had placed on Grayson's luggage, they should be around here somewhere, far away from the business sector, in a residential area. Were they staying at one of Wilson's many hideouts?

According to the Bat Cave's databases, Wilson has many hideouts, however this one is not on file. I shall add it when I return.

Something moved. Stiffening, Damian watched the street carefully for more signs of movement. His eyes narrowed.

Ah. Assassins. Idiots. Didn't matter if Grayson and Wilson were traveling incognito—someone was bound to have them followed.

Steel slithered against leather as Damian drew his sword from its sheath. Guns could be just as messy as swords, but swordplay was more of an art-form. Grayson may have disapproved of guns and knives, but he couldn't deny that they were efficient in a dangerous situation.

His stupid escrima sticks won't stop a bullet. It's a wonder the moron is still alive.

First course of action: distraction.

Damian tossed out two smoke bombs from his utility belt and ducked. Steam hissed from the small metal balls as the would-be assassins cursed, coughing in the billowing smoke. He rushed into their midst.

I don't care if he believes this is dangerous, Damian thought. I would rather come with Grayson than stay with that infuriating archer.

And, of course, there was the issue of Wilson and Grayson being former master-and-apprentice. Grayson had made the mistake of going alone. His teammates had left him when they were ordered to. TT. Damian knew a lost fight when he saw one. If he were as unskilled as Grayson had been at that time he would have certainly called in for backup.

I wouldn't even have allowed myself to get into the situation in the first place.

"Surrender at once!" Damian shouted.

"ACHTUNG!"

The assassin's companion didn't have time to shout a response. Like a furious Bandersnatch Damian flung himself upon the assassins. They whipped out their guns to shoot him, but they were a mite too slow. With a quick flick of the wrist, Damian chopped off the assassin's hand and jabbed the point at the assassin's throat.

"Now tell me," Damian growled in German. "Who are you working for?"

As he spoke he jammed his sword into the fellow behind him. TT. Sneaking around won't do any good. The man breathed too loud. Damian twisted his sword once to make sure the man was dead before sliding it out.

"I believe I asked you a question."

"You'll find out soon enough, kid."

Something foamy trickled out of the man's mouth. Curses! Cyanide tooth capsule. Without bothering to interrogate the man further, Damian slashed him across the neck.

I won't let him have the death he wants.

It was a mercy killing, anyway. When applied correctly the sword was quicker. Damian straightened and glanced at the carnage. This was going to be a pain to clean up quickly.

"Damian?"

A side door to one of the houses opened. Grayson stumbled into the street, his eyes wide as he looked at the bodies lying on the street. Wilson and an older woman followed, though they didn't appear quite as shocked as Grayson did. To Damian's great irritation, Grayson gripped him by the shoulders and shook him. "Damian, what have you done—How—What—?"

Blabbering idiot.

"You didn't have to kill them," Grayson said finally.

"I saved your lives."

"Indeed he did." Wilson set a hand on Grayson's shoulder. "Lay off the kid. This is fine work."

Praise from Wilson. TT. Still, it was nice to know that someone appreciated his work. A horrified expression crossed Grayson's face as he backed away from Wilson defensively.

"You're crazy, Slade!" Grayson exclaimed "Damian, how many did you kill?"

"All of them."

Grayson let out a strangled gasp. Unbelievable. "Damian..."

"You're out of luck, Dick." Slade laughed. "Get used to the body count. It'll go up with him on the team."

"He's not on the team! Damian, you're going home!"

Damian pointed his sword towards Grayson. "I can kill you a thousand different ways, Grayson. You do not give me orders. I will not return to Gotham until the rescue mission is complete."

Grayson swept the bloodied sword out of his face with indifference. "I don't want you coming with us."

"I'm sorry, Dick, but you're out-numbered," Slade said. "I don't mind if the boy comes along."

"Don't you start," Grayson snapped, sticking a finger in Slade's face.

"For once I agree with Wilson," Damian said. "Do not forget that I have more resources in the Middle East than you do, Grayson. I am a valuable asset."

Honestly, why was this so difficult for Grayson to understand? Forcing him to go back to Gotham would be counter-productive. Grayson's reasoning was inept, unsound.

"The boy has a point," Slade said.

"I'm surrounded by assassins," Dick muttered. "Fantastic." Grayson slumped his shoulders and sighed again. Sensing that he needed more persuasion, Damian spoke. "I will not allow you to make the same mistake as before: you will complete this mission with me, a qualified professional."

Wilson chuckled.

"Find something funny, Wilson?"

"Nothing. Welcome aboard the coterie, little Wayne."  
Damian pointed the tip of his blade—still dripping with blood—towards Wilson's face. "Call me that again and I will break your face."

A horrified curse burst out of Grayson as he rubbed his temple. What was Grayson so emotional about? He knew Damian's past. Killing two men was nothing. Damian had killed more than two in a single day before.

"Good job," Wilson said to Grayson. "I taught you well. Glad to see you're passing my skills on."

"He came to me like this!" Grayson exclaimed. "Not everything's about you, Slade—"

"Now, if you two ladies will stop flirting," Damian said loudly, "we have a rescue mission to enact."


	6. Suspicions

Chapter 6: Suspicions

-SW-

Stuttgart, Germany

Waller Castle

"Waller lives in a castle?" Dick asked. "No wonder she ditched you."

"Addie does what she wants. I can't stop her."

Still, looking up at this castle made Slade sick to his stomach. Of all the pretentious assholes she just had to pick Waller, didn't she?

The three of them stood just outside the front door in civilian clothing. Though it was tempting to walk around in their uniforms, some undercover work wouldn't do any harm. Traversing a foreign country in costume was never a good idea. Dick lifted a fist to knock.

"No, we're breaking through the window," Slade said.

"Not on good terms, then?"

"You could say that." Slade punched through a window and leapt inside.

"And you say I'm the immature one," Dick muttered, jumping after him.

A middle-aged, dark-haired man started in surprise as the three of them burst through the window. Wine splattered the carpet as he dropped his glass. "You!"

"Waller," Slade said coolly. "Good to see you again."

Waller's hands balled into fists, though he looked unsure of himself. His gaze slid from Slade to Dick and Damian, who hung back a little. "Who're you two?" "You're not his kids."

"Thank God," Dick muttered.

Slade didn't have time for this. Every second wasted was another second Addie spent in captivity. That wasn't acceptable. "You know why I'm here, Waller."

"Yeah, yeah. You could've knocked, you know." Waller straightened, his shock gone. "You know Addie doesn't want you involved in anything. It's useless to argue with her."

Time to play his cards early, then. Slade slid his sword free and pointed it at Waller's face. "Since you've done such a crappy job taking care of her, I suppose that I have to do it myself."

"You know perfectly well that she doesn't need us."

True, very true. Waller was completely missing the point, though. "It's been a week. She hasn't come back yet. It's time for an intervention."

Looking uncomfortable, Waller turned his attention away from Slade. "Who are you, young man?" he asked Dick again.

"No one of consequence."

Revealing his true identity as Batman would be idiotic. Slade had advised Dick to keep his identity a secret until Batman was really needed.

"My regular assistant Major William Wintergreen is too injured to travel." Slade gestured towards Dick and Damian. "These are my...current allies. Believe me, Waller, they are more than qualified to track down Addie."

Slade didn't fail to hear Dick's disagreeing huff. Being on Dick's good side meant less tension, a better chance that he would help. It took a great deal of effort to be amiable to Dick, especially when he knew that Dick was likely to call all his sudden flattery bullcrap.

Waller raised an eyebrow as he studied Damian, but he turned his attention back to Slade.

"Please... Slade..." Waller lowered his gaze to the floor. "The CIA has no idea where she is. No one will help me."

Sniveling idiot. What kind of man was he? Since when was Addie attracted to men like Waller? He didn't deserve her.

"Give me the information I need. I'm here to rescue my wife—"

"She's not your wife!"

"I'm going to shove this stick up your—"

"Slade." Dick spoke firmly, putting his hand on Slade's shoulder. "Don't waste time arguing."

No, Dick was right. Flinging insults at Waller wasn't getting them anywhere.

"If it's any consolation, sir, Slade's not the only one attempting to get her out of there," Dick said. "I'm the one in charge. I hired Slade to help track Ms. Kane down."

"She was assigned to track a suspected terrorist in Qurac," Waller said. "I haven't heard from her in over a week."

"Has anyone contacted you?" Dick asked. "The CIA? Her kidnappers?"

"No. I guess they don't think I'm a threat."

"That's because you aren't," Slade said.

"No threat of any kind?" Dick asked, raising his voice and ignoring Slade. "Yet you're closer to Adeline than Slade is."

"Maybe it's Slade's fault, then," Waller replied. "It always is. Why should it be any different this time around?"

Knocking his teeth out would be so much fun. Maybe Addie got together with him just to spite Slade. If she couldn't kill him, then why not get together with a man he'd despise? Joey, of course, would never mind much so long as his mother was happy.

Does Waller make her happy?

Slade didn't know. He would never know until he asked Addie himself. If push came to shove Addie's happiness overruled any feelings Slade harbored towards Waller.

"Do you always act as a mediator?" Slade asked.

"Bruce has no people skills," Dick said in a low voice. "I spoke for him a lot."

And I'm sure you would have done the same for me, if you decided to stay by my side. A charming personality went a long way. Dick could flatter anyone. It was a skill Slade did not have, and he did not ever intend to cultivate it.

"Coaxing answers with flattery is a waste of time," Damian said.

"Thank you for your input, Damian," Dick said, his voice exasperated. "Anyway, we'd better get moving. Thanks for your time, Waller."

Slade did nothing to hide his dislike as they walked away.

"I hate Waller."

"And Addie hates you." Dick frowned. "I just hope this doesn't balloon into some sort of international conspiracy."

"Do you think it will?"

"I need more information."

An international conspiracy was the last thing Slade wanted on his plate. However, at the moment Slade only wanted Addie to be safe. Once she was somewhere safe (preferably with Joey or Wintergreen), then he would help Dick clean up afterwards. That was, if he wanted help.

-SB-

Downtown

Gotham City

Batgirl soared through the night sky, swinging playfully from building-to-building on her grapple line. Stephanie Brown loved everything about crime-fighting, though it was a little lonely without Dickie-bird and Grumpy-Face.

Damian really is gone, then, she thought.

Immediately after Roy discovered that Damian was missing, Steph went out to search for him, though she had stopped searching hours ago. There was no point; Damian was long gone. Out of everyone who went looking for him, Steph was sure that she was the only one who could have persuaded Damian to go home. If she wasn't so tight on time these days, she would have gladly agreed to babysit him.

Yes, having fun with a baby assassin. Just a regular day in the Bat Family.

Static crackled in her ears as Tim opened up communications.

"Don't get into trouble tonight, Steph," Tim said.

"Stop worrying about me. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She tapped the communicator in her ear. "Batgirl out."

The Batboy's rogue brother Jason was out and about tonight. Maybe Steph could persuade him from killing Black Mask's men by taking him out for a late-night burger. Get a milkshake and call it a date. He was pretty, just a little crazy was all. Steph landed in an alleyway. Her detective-senses were tingling. Jason was here.

"Hey helmet-head!" Steph called out. "Come out and play!"

Jason Todd, the second Robin and now Red Hood, dropped down from the fire escape and landed in front of her. He stayed far enough to be cautious, but close enough to read her face. "What do you want, Brown?" Jason took off his helmet, revealing his masked face. Heh. A mask under a mask. "You wanna talk we'll set up a date. You, me, a bottle of wine and some bread and cheese. Sound good?"

"I'm flattered, Jaybird, but maybe another night."

That smirk never left Jason's face. Though Steph had never known him as Robin, she spoke as if she knew him well. A conversational tone never hurt anybody.

"Aw, right in the heart, Brown."

"Do you need a hug?"

"If you're not actually going to fight me—"

"Hey, no one wants to fight anyone." Steph held up her hands. "I'd prefer a hug war, but the world doesn't work like that."

"It sure doesn't."

The banter was getting old. Steph could tell Jason was getting tired of it. Jason tested the edge of his knife against his gloved thumb he continued to speak."While you've been dicking around Gotham you failed to pick up one thing: the real threat to Gotham city."

"The real threat?"

"Yeah. For Bats you guys sure can't see in the dark well." The eyeholes of his mask narrowed. "I won't fight you unless you make me. Just don't get involved. You might mess things up like you messed up as Robin."

Oh, hey, whoa.

"Time-out, Jay. We can work together." Steph took a step towards him. "You don't have to work alone. Bruce loves you."

"Yeah... well... Bruce isn't here." Jason didn't believe it. He had never believed it even after he rose from the Lazarus Pit. "I'm the one taking care of Gotham. Dick and Damian haven't been doing a good job. 'Sides, with them out of the country, I can finally shine."

Was it any use trying to persuade Jason that he didn't have to be alone? Be bitter? Even if Bruce wouldn't take Jason back, there were other people who would give him a second chance.

"How much do you know about that?" Steph asked.

"I've got eyes and ears just like you do." Jason smirked. "Someone's pissed off Slade Wilson, and I know that he cried to Dickie for help."

Part of Steph wanted to lecture Jason. As the second Robin inaugurated shortly after Dick returned to the superhero community, Jason knew all about the apprenticeship. Dick had cared for Jason and had beaten himself up again when Jason died.

"And you're not gonna help?" Steph asked.

"Hell no. I don't care what they're up to, so long as they are out of my way." He replaced his helmet. He's dangerous, she thought. Everyone knows that. But he has a heart in there somewhere. The Lazarus Pit made it beat again.

"Jason, what's wrong?"

Steph wasn't naive enough to completely trust Jason, but something was off about him tonight. Something was bothering him, so much so that he even deigned to talk to Steph rather than punch her in the guts. He shoved her roughly away as he walked past her.

"It's my problem. I won't hesitate to kill you or anyone else who gets involved."

Jason slipped off into the darkness. Steph had half a mind to follow him, but something held her back. Perhaps it would be best to wait and watch him.

"So is our date still on or not?"

-DG-

Overnight Train

Germany

The three of them handed their passports over for inspection as they boarded the night train to the Balkans. Next stop: Montenegro, then from Montenegro to Istanbul, Istanbul to Baghdad and from there to Qurac. Almost like a holiday, if one ignored the constant sense that they were being watched.

"Traveling by train will take a long while," Dick muttered to Slade. "A few days at least."

"Her kidnappers are aware that I am after them," Slade replied. "Better to travel incognito than via plane. You ever try flying an unlicensed American aircraft into the Middle East?"

"I'm assuming you're that stupid?"

"I prefer the term 'daring.'"

They stepped onto the train with the other passengers, speaking now in low tones.

"Call it what you will," Dick said. "I'd rather get this done as soon as possible. Lingering around you never did any good for me."

"Understandable."

Dick shot Slade a sidelong glance. "Damian, take our luggage and go into the cabin. Slade and I need to have a chat."

Grumbling something in Arabic, Damian did as he was told. Slade kept his bag with him as he followed Dick to the other end of the train, where the bar was. For a few minutes Dick ignored Slade, instead turning to the counter to order a drink. "Das, bitte."

So long as they were working together Dick would do all he possibly could to annoy Slade. Especially after he eavesdropped on my conversation with Starfire and Mar'i last night.

"Danke." Dick turned towards Slade, who was waiting patiently for him to speak. "I don't understand why you're acting this way."

"What way?"

"Not being a giant prick." Did he surprise Slade? Good. Ten years was a long time. He wasn't going to fall into the same traps again. "My experience tells me that you are deceptively kind. You're only being nice so you can get what you want."

"What do you want me to do?" Slade asked, annoyed. "Insult you?"

"It would be a little more in character."

"Why can't you accept the fact that I'm being honest?"

"Because you never have been."

"So why come?"

"Because of Joey. Because of Wintergreen. Never because of you."

As one of Joey's best friends Dick understood how much his mother meant to him. After all Joey had suffered, Dick didn't want him to lose any more relatives. Slade was as good as dead to him, since he couldn't come close without setting the Titans on him.

"And what if Addie's kidnappers move her?" Dick asked, changing the subject. "Shouldn't we move in quickly?"

"They want something from me. They want me to find her." Slade frowned. "But they believe I'm coming alone."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Dick began to play with his glass, dipping the liquid back and forth. He had been drinking too much lately. Becoming a drunkard wasn't something he ever intended to do (Besides, it was Guy Gardner's job to pass out the drinks), but he found himself wanting a drink more and more. He pushed the glass away.

"Don't come to me for help again, Slade."

This was the last time he was going to let Slade manipulate him. It didn't matter if he had agreed to help, this was Slade's problem. Sensing that Dick wasn't pleased, Slade bowed as gracefully as he could out of the conversation.

"I'll see you in the morning," Slade said. "Good night."

The mercenary walked into the cabin next door. Leaving his unfinished drink on the counter, Dick sighed and walked back to his own cabin, where Damian was waiting. Once Dick slid open the door, Damian plopped himself onto an upper bunk, took out a book, and bluntly ignored Dick to read. Since there were only two of them in the cabin, they didn't have to use all of the bunks. Instead of preparing for bed Dick sat down and began to rummage through a bag.

"Look, Damian, I really don't want you talking or interacting with Slade unless absolutely necessary."

"I can handle him."

"No, you can't."

"And you can? How should I know? Your narrative was flawed, Grayson." Damian turned over to look at Dick. "Why is it so difficult for you to tell the truth?"

"You spend time with a crazy man and you learn how to hide your emotions well."

"TT. You do not hide your emotions."

"Compared to you or Bruce, no." Yeah, talking about feelings with Bruce was like talking to a doorknob. "Showing emotions is important too. Learn how to have fun, Damian."

"Fun is counterproductive."

A ten-year-old who didn't know how to have fun. When Dick had been his age he was the biggest little prankster around. Maybe Dick should teach Damian how to troll Slade. There were a few times Dick had pulled pranks on Slade, just to annoy the mercenary...

"Come on, Dami, we have a long train ride. Play Go Fish with me."

"No, I will not amuse myself with such childish games."

Dick waved the pack of cards around and smirked. "You don't want to play because you don't know how."

"No, it is because it's a waste of time."

"What are you talking about? Go Fish sharpens your logic skills. Or," Dick raised his eyebrows, "maybe you're afraid you'll lose to me."

Hah. That caught Damian's attention. He lowered his book just enough to glare at Dick. After a moment he slammed his book shut and sat up. "Fine. To appease your fraternal instinct, I will deign to play this silly card game with you."

A wide, goofy grin spread across Dick's face. Perhaps bringing Damian along wasn't such a bad idea after all.

-DW-

Overnight Train

Germany

Grayson was off angsting somewhere. Typical. Sometime during the night, Grayson had woken up and left the cabin, presumably unable to handle the emotional stress. Damian slid off of his bunk and pulled on a pair of shoes. It was time for Damian to have a little chat with Wilson anyway. Grayson may have set his terms with Wilson before beginning the mission, but Damian was determined to set his own. A quick glance up-and-down the hallway told Damian that Grayson wasn't around. Good.

Without knocking, Damian strode into Wilson's cabin. Just because Grayson foolishly trusted the mercenary didn't mean that they shouldn't treat him like the dangerous criminal he was.

A pleasant smile crossed Wilson's face as he looked up from his newspaper. "Ah, Damian. What brings you here?"

Damian slid the cabin door shut behind him. Any interruption, whether by Grayson or a train official, would throw everything into chaos. Grayson forbidding him to speak with Wilson. TT. As if Grayson's instructions mattered.

"I am not here to rescue your woman, Wilson."

"Then why did you follow us?"

Stupid mercenary with that stupid smile on his face. "If you do anything to hurt Grayson I will personally slice your head off."

"Hmm. I'm not sure Dick would like that."

"Grayson's not around." Damian leaned in menacingly. "He may not have the willpower to kill you, but I do."

For emphasis Damian took out a knife he had hidden from Grayson. Irritating Grayson may be, but he did provide for Damian's well-being.

"I don't doubt it."

Slade Wilson: master of manipulation? Damian couldn't tell for sure. Mind-games were Wilson's specialty, according to Grayson, but if Wilson ever attempted to pull one on him, then Damian wouldn't hesitate to take him out. He had no time for mind-games.

"Do not patronize me."

"Oh, you're more like Dick than you think."

"Me? Like that long-haired, pun-loving hippie? Don't make me laugh."

"I don't intend to patronize you, Damian. You are every bit your father's child, but don't believe that Dick hasn't influenced you one bit."

Grayson was supposed to be his mentor. If he was not influenced by him, then he would not be his mentor. There were undesirable qualities that Damian did not wish to inherit, such as his annoying optimism and godawful puns, but there were certainly things that Damian hoped to learn from Grayson. He just could not name them at the moment.

"I did not say any such thing. I merely wish to inform you that I will not tolerate disrespect to either myself or to Grayson."

"Of course. I understand."

TT. Wilson may comprehend the facts at a literal level, but the mercenary was likely to be a little dense. "Do you?"

"Don't worry, I don't intend to persuade you or Grayson to be my apprentice." Slade rolled his eye. "Dick probably thinks so, but I don't have the time or energy to deal with training you."

An opportunity to train with Deathstroke was something that Damian would have considered in the past, but again Wilson could not be trusted. Whatever Damian was inclined to believe, he knew that everything Grayson told him about Wilson's training was correct. Damian knew when someone was lying. "After hearing Grayson's tale, I don't even want to consider it."

"And here I didn't think you cared about your mentor."

"He is adequate for the time being."

Rumbling laughter scratched Damian's ears. Fighting back the urge the throw the knife in Wilson's face, Damian collected himself enough to speak calmly. "My threat still stands, Wilson: move to sabotage Grayson and my blade will taste your blood."

Why was he so dismissive of his threat? Damian meant it. His lips thinned into a frown.

"Do not verbally abuse him," Damian added. "Any emotional disturbance is a danger to the mission."

If Wilson failed to heed any of this, another chat session would entail. Honestly, why did Grayson believe that going alone was the best idea? Out of all three, Damian felt the most qualified. Keeping this ragtag team together was a challenge he gladly accepted.

"Dick and I understand this. Lighten up, Damian. We each know how the other works. Why don't you spend the time to get to know him?"

"Our conversation is done." Damian replaced his knives. "Grayson may have let you step all over him, but I will not allow it upon myself or him. I cannot reiterate it enough."

-RH-

Star City

Harper Residence

"Damian is with Dick now," Alfred said. "Master Dick gave me a call at an ungodly hour. Apparently Damian used his mother's American contacts to fly over to Stuttgart."

"Wonderful."

"I also have Stephanie online. She wishes to speak with you."

"Put her through. Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Roy."

Steph's bright cheery voice replaced Alfred's. "Hiya Roy! You got a minute?"

"Yeah. You patrolled Gotham tonight, right? Find anything interesting?"

Now with Batman and Robin gone, Stephanie had to handle Gotham by herself. It wasn't that Roy didn't believe that Batgirl couldn't handle Gotham, but she would need help. With Barbara as Oracle there wasn't much she could do to physically help Steph if she got caught in another crime war.

"Ran into the Red Hood, had a little chat."

"Why did you talk to Jason?" Roy asked. "You know we can't trust him, Steph."

"He knows what's going on in the criminal underground. Something has him riled up, something big."

"So what do you think it is?"

"I dunno, Roy, but if it's got him spooked then maybe we should look into it. I'll be tracking him, maybe get Batwoman to help me."

"Do that. I can't be in Gotham all the time, but call me if ya need help."

"Will do. Batgirl out."

Roy turned off the phone and set it back in the charger. Nothing was ever simple, was it?

"Daddy, was that Steph?" Lian walked out in her pajamas, rubbing her tired eyes . "Is she coming to visit? We should have a sleepover."

He bundled the little girl in his arms. "No, honey, she'll visit another day. Why are you out of bed? You have school tomorrow."

"I heard you talking." She yawned widely and hugged Roy's neck. "So Dami's not gonna play Barbies with me?"

"No. He didn't listen to Uncle Dick and is in big doo-doo."

"Damian is a buttface."

Someday he was going to have to tell her to stop saying things like that, but he couldn't help but agree with her. Dick made so many excuses for the little snot: grew up with Talia al-Ghul, assassin training made him like this, yadda-yadda. Those excuses only lasted so long. If Damian was going to continue working with the rest of the capes he needed to tone down his inherently violent nature.

"Shh, we don't call people buttfaces," Roy said. "Back to bed."

"I wanted Dami to play Hungry Hungry Hippos with me, you and Dick," she said sleepily.

"We'll make him someday. Don't you worry."

Secretly, the thought of Damian playing Hungry Hungry Hippos made Roy want to snort. Dick certainly could be persuaded to play, but if he could ever coax Damian into the child he was supposed to be, then Dick would have done his job well.


	7. Lies

Chapter 7: Lies

-DG-

Overnight Train

Somewhere in the Balkans

Though impatient to get the job done quickly, Dick found himself grateful that they didn't rush into Qurac. Damian certainly complicated things, but Dick also found Damian's presence a good buffer against Slade. Talking with him was a good way to get Dick's mind off of the mercenary.

The next morning, Dick found himself back in the dining cabin, where they were supposed to be having breakfast. Slade was already sitting down, staring outside the window as he pressed a phone to his ear.

"... Yes, yes, of course I understand," Slade said. "We'll discuss this later." He set down the phone and glanced at Dick. "What do you want?"

"Grumpy this morning, aren't you?" Dick sat down across from Slade and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Then again, you're always grumpy."

How nice. Sitting down civilly for breakfast with Slade Wilson. Hadn't done that in a while. Of course, this was in an entirely new context, and Dick was uncertain how to proceed.

"Not always," Slade said.

"Like I said: you're only nice when it suits you. It's a wonder you have friends at all."

"Are you going to sit there and criticize me?"

"Why not? You spent nine months criticizing me?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't. That's why we're talking about you."

Never allow the conversation inward, that's what Dick had learned. Dick thought briefly about asking who Slade had been talking to, but he stopped himself. He wasn't going to eavesdrop or be nosy like Slade had been the other night.

"Well there's nothing much to talk about," Slade said. "We can only plan so far ahead."

"And yet you insist on taking the slow route?"

"Do you think I want to? No, we go slow."

The less time Dick had to spend with Slade the better. But depending on how sensitive the goons behind this whole operation were to their every movement, then Slade was right.

"We follow the trail of bread crumbs," Slade said. "You're the detective here. Your call."

"I thought you were the expert people-tracker."

"Whoever they are, they're good. I need Batman."

"That's why I'm here."

Damian finally joined them, sliding in the seat next to Dick. He ignored the ongoing conversation to mess with his tea. Dick and Slade talked tactics for a solid ten minutes, until the waitress came back. They ordered their food, Damian outshining them all in his nearly-perfect German. Dick's German was halting at best, obviously learned in a classroom. Why was it that Damian had the uncanny ability to blend into the culture here?

"Sleep well, Damian?" Slade asked conversationally. "The train kept stopping. Kept me awake."

"I am not here to talk to you, Wilson," Damian said. "Your mere presence is enough to upset my stomach."

"You are more than welcome to eat somewhere else."

"That is out of the question. How else am I supposed to keep an eye on you?"

"Damian's got a point," Dick said. "Besides, we're putting everything on your tab."

Yes, Dick had told Damian not to interact unnecessarily with Slade, but he meant without his supervision. Dick understood all of Slade's tricks. If Slade tried to play any of his famous mind games on him, then Dick would stop it at once.

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Slade said.

Their food arrived. Damian had ordered a bowl of plain oatmeal with some fruit on the side. Eh. He wasn't even going to put sugar in it? Gross. A large plate of waffles loaded with strawberries and whipped cream sat in front of Dick. Smiling, Dick began to drown his waffles in syrup.

"Why are you eating so much sugar?" Damian demanded. "Stop pouring so much syrup on your waffles. No wonder you're so slow: you're eating too many sweets."

"Hey," Dick said through a mouthful of waffle, "you worry about your own weight, Little D."

"TT."

Ripping open a bag of sugar, Dick sneakily poured it all over Damian's oatmeal. Kids liked sugar, right? What kid didn't? Deep down, Damian liked sweets. Dick was sure of it. Unleash the Cookie Monster within.

"No." Damian grimaced.

"Das ist lecker," Dick said, "that's what you should say."

"Do not correct my German, you stupid American."

"You got an American dad, chum."

"That does not make me American."

Hearing him voice such insults with that accent of his made everything so much more adorable. But Damian's standoffish and egoistic attitude insulted most upon a first meeting. It took Dick a lot of patience to deal with him.

"Why do I even put up with you, Grayson?" Damian threw his napkin down on the table and stood up. "You are so childish."

Bruce's son stomped away. Suddenly Dick was aware that Slade had been watching the exchange in silence. As the smile faded from his face Dick pushed away his plate, no longer hungry. "I should go after him."

"He can take care of himself," Slade said. "Let's talk business first."

Everything was always business. This time around Dick didn't mind, but sometimes it was going to get a little strained. He opened the files that Slade pushed towards him across the table.

"They want Adeline alive, but why?" Dick tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Are you sure she was kidnapped because of you?"

"Why else would they send assassins after us?"

"Something smells funny." Dick couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something was wrong, but what? At first he dismissed his initial suspicions, but as he got deeper and deeper into this the more uneasy he felt. Why couldn't he figure it out?

"If the kidnappers wanted to ransom her, then they would have contacted Waller," Slade said. "He's rolling in dough. Old money. Pushover. He would pay the ransom."

"Would you?"

Slade gazed steadily at him. "I wouldn't let them win."

"Do you think going to Waller was a waste of time?"

"No." Slade paused. "I just got off the phone with him. He emailed me useful information after we left. I know where she was staying in Qurac and who was with her."

"Do you know what happened to those working with her?" Dick asked.

"Dead. Someone may have survived the attack, but we won't know for sure until we get there."

The first question to ask: Who benefits?

Whoever kidnapped Adeline had money, and money meant power. Someone with a reputation and the gall to attack CIA operatives in Qurac. Could be terrorists. Could be anybody. Dick needed more information before he could make a guess.

"Do you think someone could have betrayed her?"

"She chooses her friends well. As much as I hate Waller, he cares for Addie."

Back then, mentioning Slade's family was sure way to piss him off. Maybe Slade was getting along in years and being nostalgic. Who knew?

So emotionally exhausting just talking to the guy. It was even more so than talking to Bruce had been. At least with Bruce he could expect some empathy—when he gave it. Slade was still unpredictable.

"As you do for her," Dick replied, "and as I do for Damian."

"It sounds like he doesn't want to be your sidekick." Slade turned to Dick. "You know you can't force anyone to do something they don't want to."

Don't go there, Slade. "It's complicated. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" A lump formed in Dick's throat. At that moment he didn't want to be there. He wanted to be back in Gotham with his friends. Starfire shouldn't be on Tamaran with her husband—she doesn't love him anyway—and Mar'i should be with him.

It's been so long since I've seen her.

Four years ago, when Mar'i was born, Dick had been completely shocked. He hadn't known that Starfire was pregnant. And then Star went off to Tamaran to marry some alien politician—that was too much.

She should be on Earth, not with Star's husband.

Dick didn't even bother to learn his name. He didn't want to know. It pained him to know that she had to marry him for political purposes. She could have refused. She should have refused.

"I'm only stating the obvious," Slade said.

No,it was the right thing to do. She knows that. I know that. Stop being so selfish. Nothing wrong with being a little selfish, though, right? Was it selfish to want a family unburdened by politics and heroics? No, of course not.

"We'll never be friends, Slade."

"We don't have to be."

True forgiveness was difficult. Many people believed that Dick had forgiven Slade, but they were mistaken. He had never forgiven Slade. The decision to let him go free was a hard one, and one that he knew would attract criticism.

"If there's an update let me know," Dick said abruptly. "I can only work with so much info."

Because I'm not Bruce.

-JT-

Crime Alley

Gotham City

Most crooks he killed, though he did lay off the drug dealers who dealt to kids. Made sure they got into the hospital at the very least. Jason put his gun back in its holster. He tapped Bob Whaley—a dealer he'd been stalking for a week—at his feet once to make sure he was dead. Good.

He left the body where it was—the drug dealer didn't deserve a proper burial. Let the police throw him in the morgue.

"Jason?"

Brown, again. She stepped from the shadows, her blond hair nearly glowing in the stuttering lamplights.

"What?" he asked sharply. "You here to take me in for killing Bob Whaley?"

"Well, I am a little concerned about that." Brown glanced at the body. "You didn't have to kill him."

People called him crazy. Even Bruce, who claimed to care about him and all that crap, had abandoned him. If Jason was ever arrested he was sure someone would send him to the loony bin. Vigilante gone bad. The outlaw Batboy. Then again, each Robin went a little nuts anyway. Big Brother Dick came back from assassin's training a little loopy. After Jason rose from the Lazarus Pits like some goo monster from a B-movie horror, the Joker gave Timmy Tim a ride on the crazy train. Brown, a former Robin herself, came back from the dead. Now there was Damian, Bruce's son. Who was to say crap wouldn't happen to that tweeting Robin as well?

"I'm not crazy," Jason said.

"I didn't say you were."

He didn't know quite what to think of this Batgirl. Yeah he knew Barbara as Batgirl, but never Stephanie.

"Whatever's got you scared, Jason, we can help."

"I'm not scared."

He shot at her, though she flipped out of the way. He wasn't freaking scared. This was just something he had to deal with by himself. He wasn't going to let it get out of hand. Getting the Bats involved would complicate things. He knew that he wouldn't be able to handle the goons by himself—but he did plan on keeping them out of Gotham for as long as possible. Jason was just going to have to be smart about this.

Gotham was as much his city as Batman's. Jason had grown up in Crime Ally. Not everyone had to be connected to the Bats to protect this city. While Batman was off fighting the Big Bads Jason was doing things that mattered: killing the drug dealers who hooked kids onto the crap, the wife-beaters and rapists.

"I don't want anyone's help."

"Too bad. We're gonna help put you in jail."

A new voice. An older voice, one that took a moment for Jason to recognize. Uh-oh, sounded like trouble.

"Thanks for dropping in," Brown said.

A head of bright red hair, a glaring red Bat symbol on her chest. Batwoman. Hooray. Let the ladies take over Gotham, then. They probably had Oracle whispering instructions into their ears at this very moment.

"What are you doing here?" Jason asked. "Do I just attract this many ladies?"

No smile. Couldn't flirt with this one anyway, Jason would have better luck flirting with Darkseid. Time to go. Chuckling, Jason turned, stopping when a batarang whizzed by his ear.

"Can't let you get away, Jason," Batwoman said.

Turning, Jason chuckled. "Even Bruce couldn't take me in."

"We're not Bruce."

A fight with the lady Bats. Maybe not as fun as taunting Batman and Robin, but dancing with these lovely ladies would be fun enough. What a way to spend a Saturday night.

"Listen, ladies," Jason said, smiling and holding out his hands, "It's been real nice chatting, but I gotta go."

"Cut the crap, Todd," Batwoman said. "If you think someone's threatening this city, then we have a right to know."

Always suspicious, weren't they? Bruce had trained them well.

"It's personal business," he replied. "It has nothing to do with you."

As he spoke his hand drifted carefully towards his knife. Time to dance the good dance and get the hell out of here.

-WW-

Wayne Penthouse

Gotham City

Once Wintergreen was well enough to walk around he was moved to one of the many guest bedrooms. Walking required a great deal of effort, and Wintergreen found himself growing dizzy far too much for his liking. He leaned against a wall and breathed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly as another wave of dizziness overcame him.

"I see that you are well, Major."

Pennyworth. Unlike Wintergreen, Pennyworth was a butler. True, Wintergreen acted like Slade's butler, but Pennyworth was a professional. He took care of Bruce Wayne and his family the same way Wintergreen took care of Slade's broken one. However, mending ties between Slade and his family was near impossible.

"It would be prudent not to move around too much. You've already collapsed twice today. Do you require assistance?"

"I'm not an invalid, Mr. Pennyworth."

"I never said that you were."

It may have been a stupid idea to move around while he was still so weak, but he didn't want his muscles to atrophy.

"Leslie won't be pleased that you are up and about so soon," Pennyworth said. "She prescribed you several weeks of rest."

Will it take Slade and Richard that long to rescue Addie? Wintergreen didn't know. There was always a chance that they wouldn't come back at all.

"Why don't you rest in the library, Major? It's down the hall."

"Very well."

Re-adjusting his crutches, Wintergreen set off again. He didn't know if he could read for long hours at a time (reading off of the computer monitor the other day gave him a flaming headache), but it would be nice to be somewhere else other than a bedroom. Despite his insistence on walking alone, Wintergreen found that he did need Pennyworth's assistance.

"Richard speaks very highly of you," Wintergreen said. "He mentioned you many times when he was young."

For a moment Pennyworth studied him. Although the gentleman had been taking care of him, Wintergreen knew that Pennyworth did not trust him completely. Typical. Once people realized that he was Slade's best friend they tended to distrust him.

"He missed you very much," Wintergreen said.

"Master Dick doesn't speak much of that time," Pennyworth replied, "but from what he has told me he also speaks highly of you."

He speaks highly of me? Well, that was a first. There were times when Wintergreen thought that Richard hated him almost as much as he hated Slade. Richard's surprising capacity for forgiveness—towards Wintergreen at least—changed Wintergreen's mind about the boy. He couldn't say the same about Richard's protégé...

"I'm glad he can find something positive about the apprenticeship."

Sensing that it was still a tender topic for the butler, Wintergreen shut his mouth. It was inevitable that their conversation would drift towards it again, but for now there was no need to aggravate Pennyworth. To Wintergreen's surprise the butler sat down on an armchair near him.

"Don't stay here on my account, Pennyworth," Wintergreen said. "I don't mean to be a burden."

"With Damian out of the house there is nothing much I can do." Pennyworth sighed. "I just hope that they all return safely."

"Their professions are rather bothersome, aren't they?"

"I would prefer that they lead normal lives, yes."

"I wish Slade would do the same. It would have saved him so much trouble."

"Oh, you've no idea how irritating Master Bruce can be at times."

"Does he ignore most of what you say?"

"He did."

Of course. Did most of the superhero community believe that Bruce Wayne was dead? Or was he truly lost in time?

"Would you go out and search for him if you could?" Wintergreen asked.

"My place is here."

That was a difference between them, then: when given the opportunity, Wintergreen would fight. Though he had been retired for many years and could settle down if he wanted to, Wintergreen knew that he would go out fighting if he could.

I should be the one going out to save Addie, Wintergreen thought. I understand Slade's reasoning, of course, but I do not like this.

Fighting off attackers wasn't something foreign, but they did catch him by surprise. They were good, too. Went right for his head. He was lucky he didn't lose control of his limbs or become brain-dead. Lucky to be alive at all.

"If you are Wilson's usual companion," Pennyworth asked, his tone careful and considerate, "then why did he recruit Master Dick?"

Ah, a tricky question with a complicated answer. Not wishing to annoy his host, Wintergreen considered his words before he spoke. "There were so many things going on in Slade's head during that time that I don't have a definite answer. The most simple one is that he wished for an heir. I believe Wayne went through something with Ra's al-Ghul, yes?"

"Indeed."

Neither seemed to want to elaborate. That was fine; Wintergreen had no desire to dig up the past. As his head pounded painfully, he knew that he wouldn't be able to read anything until the pain subsided. Good conversation, however, wouldn't be a problem.

"Would you care for some tea, Major?" Alfred asked.

"Of course."

Perhaps staying here wouldn't be so terrible after all.

-RW-

Titans Tower

Jump City

Rose Wilson shook her long white hair from its ponytail as she stepped out of the training room. Dressed in a sports bra and lady boxers, Rose walked unashamedly out into the main room, where her little brother was reading a book.

"What's up, brother dear?" She asked, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Joey, of course, didn't answer. He looked up briefly at her, gesturing towards her clothes.

"Hey, it was hot in there," Rose said. "Don't look at me like that."

She turned up the radio. Get some music blasting, just the thing to do in the morning. Rock to some tunes while she made herself some post-training breakfast.

"... And that was Lady's Gaga's latest hit! This is your DJ Jared Holden on 109.9!"

"Someone turn the radio down!" someone shouted. "There are people trying to sleep here!"

A dance party was suitable for all hours of the day. A bleary-eyed Tim walked through the door, yawning widely. He started when he caught sight of Rose.

"Hey, put some clothes on," Tim snapped, turning his head away. "This is the common room, not the locker room."

"Deal with it."

Watching a flustered Tim try to convince her to put clothes on was worth more than all money in the world. Averting his eyes, Tim went straight to the cupboard to eat some leftover doughnuts. She wiped her sweaty forehead dry with a towel.

"Anyone heard from Dick lately?" she asked. "Haven't heard much from him since he picked up the al-Ghul brat."

She had briefly trained under the famous Dick Grayson during her transition from villain to vigilante. Nice guy, smoking hot. Practically sizzling. If he didn't have a kid and an on-and-off relationship with that alien, then Rose would have considered picking him up. Then again, it was way more fun trying to seduce straight little Timmy.

"Don't expect to hear from him soon," Tim said, pouring himself a glass of milk. "He's on a mission in Qurac."

What an unlikely place for Batman to wander. As Tim spoke some other Titans wandered in. Over the years the Titans' roster had expanded to include some new faces. The new Blue Beetle, Jaime Reyes, wandered in and exclaimed in a cheerful voice. "What's up, amigos?"

No one paid attention to Jaime, who slowly realized that a fight was brewing. Rose's eye was glued to Tim. He was hiding something. Timmy had never been the best of liars.

"Why is he in Qurac?" She stepped right up to his face. A deep rose flush darkened his cheeks as she moved into kissing distance. "What aren't you telling me?"

Whether it was her closeness or her near-nakedness that made him uncomfortable, Rose didn't know. She also didn't care. Tim stood his ground, not answering her.

"It's something to do with Slade. He's there too."

"My father's in Qurac?" She glanced to Joey, who looked just as confused. "Why is he going to Qurac?"

Tim held up his hands. "I don't know the details. Don't ask me."

Liar. If Slade was up to something she had the right to know. Joey looked questioningly towards Tim.

"I don't know," Tim said, throwing up his hands. "Give Dick a call."

If given the chance, Rose would kill Slade. Never in front of Joey—oh, never in front of Joey. At times Rose couldn't decide if she loved her father or not. When they first met he didn't want to see her—only Wintergreen cared. How is Wintergreen, anyway? She should give him a call. Rose picked up her communicator and dialed. No one answered.

"Wintergreen isn't picking up. That's weird." Rose turned to Joey. "Have you tried to call him lately?"

"Wintergreen is hurt, Rose." Tim spoke gently, as though that would soften the blow. It took a few moment for the words to register. A thousand questions spun through her mind: why was Wintergreen hurt? How did Tim know him? What happened to Slade?

Unable to process her churning thoughts, Rose simply shouted,"WINTERGREEN'S HURT AND NO ONE TOLD ME?"

A ringing silence followed. What did Tim believe? That he could hide this from her? She had a lot of questions that he'd better answer. And Dick was involved in this? Dick didn't even bother to tell her himself?  
What was it with these people? Half the time Rose was with the Titans she wanted to leave. Hardly anyone except Eddie appreciated her. The original Titans were all right—though Gar could be a bit pervy at times.

Tim blocked her as she moved towards the door. "He's still recovering, Rose. You can visit him later."

"Why is he in Gotham?" Rose demanded, clutching Tim's arms. "He shouldn't be in Gotham. What happened, Tim?"

"Like I said," Tim replied, disengaging himself from her vice-like grip, "give Dick a call. He gave Wintergreen the best medical help Batman can offer."

Rose had half a mind to ask why Dick would help Wintergreen, but then she remembered all that had happened ten years ago. Wintergreen may very well be as dear to him as he was to the rest of the Wilson kids.

That's because Wintergreen is the only sane one in this family.

"I'm leaving," Rose announced.

There was nothing Tim could do to keep her from seeing her old friend. Beside her, Joey seemed just as distressed as she felt. He could come with her. He would come with her. That's what siblings were for.

"Why is this guy so important to you?" Jaime asked.

"Wintergreen was more of a dad than Slade ever was," Rose said. "Come on, Joey, we're going to Gotham."

Grabbing her brother by the arm, Rose dragged Joey out of the front door.


	8. Under Siege

Chapter 8: Under Siege

-SW-

Overnight Train

Somewhere in the Balkans

Even Slade had to admit that he was bored. For the most part he kept away from Dick and Damian, talking to them only when necessary or during mealtimes. Part of Slade wished that Rose or Joey had accompanied him, but now Slade was certain that leaving them behind had been a good idea.

Keeping the drama to a minimum was a surprisingly exhausting task. While Slade would have laughed at Damian's threat in other circumstances, it could not go unattended. Any threat to kill was still a threat.

Dick stood in the tight hallway in front of the sleeping cabins, his eyes watching the Balkan landscape roll past. He had never been to this part of Europe, had he?

"Dick, keep a leash on that kid. He threatened to kill me the other night."

"He threatens to kill everyone, even me."

Pity that. If Slade had to make a choice, would he betray Dick if it meant saving Addie? Slade didn't know. It was strange, though: while Slade said that he would kill Dick if he ever got in the way of one of Slade's contracts, he couldn't fathom the idea of doing so. He had dedicated so much time into training Dick that even thinking about killing him seemed out of the question.

"And you tolerate that?"

"I threatened to kill you many times."

"You never lived up to it." But he came oh-so-very-close. There were a thousand different things Slade could have done differently. If he had waited just a little bit longer for the shock to wear off, then maybe Dick wouldn't have turned on him. Maybe, if he had kept his temper, Slade would have been successful.

"Like I said: he doesn't want to be with you. You of all people know what it's like to be with someone you don't like."

"You know he's the son of Bruce and Talia al-Ghul," Dick said. "Don't compare his situation to mine. Damian was given a choice, and he chose to stay with his father. With Bruce... missing... I'm in charge of his well-being."

If Slade had been given the choice of choosing Dick or Damian as an apprentice, he may very well have chosen Dick. Damian Wayne was too volatile, even for a ten-year-old. If Slade hadn't made the mistakes he had, then Dick may still be working for him. "You trust him?"

"People thought I was untrustworthy because I trained with you."

"Wasn't that your own fault?"

"Always blaming someone else, aren't you?" Dick scratched his stubbly chin. "Every single time I didn't do what you wanted, you blamed me. You never thought that you were the problem, the person who had to change."

"Do you really hate me?"

"For what you did to me, yes. But I'm not you, Slade. I won't seek revenge. I don't care if you have some fairy-tale ending with your ex after this is over," Dick said. "But if you're trying to break me and Damian apart, then I'll walk away. I'll leave when you need help the most."

Tired of the conversation, Dick turned and left. Slade could not blame him for leaving, but all the same...

Slade's cell phone rang. A glance at the area code told Slade all he needed to know. Great. Just what he needed to deal with.

"What do you want?"

"Don't argue with us," said the voice. "You know our demands. You know what's on the line."

"Indeed I do."

"You have until the end of the week. Do what you must."

"Understood."

Slade shut his cell phone. What a pity he had to drag Dick and his sidekick into this. The quicker this unpleasant business was over with, the better.

No one paid attention to him as he stood in front of the window. Occasionally someone would steal a glance at his eye-patch, but otherwise people left him alone. For that, Slade was grateful.

What if I ditch Dick? He thought. I can do this without him.

No matter how much he wanted to think that, Slade knew that he couldn't do this without Dick. As much as he wanted Addie to love him and come with him, he knew that it would be difficult by himself. Other circumstances forbade Slade from doing this mission however he pleased.

I feel like drinking as much as Dick does nowadays.

Slade hadn't failed to notice how much Dick drank. Yes, the boy was trying to control his consumption, but it was still rather disheartening to see the aftereffects.

It's none of your business.

Of course it wasn't, and neither was the boy Dick was mentoring now. While the boy's skills were admirable (not to mention the product of training in the al-Ghul household), he was just too unpredictable. Controlling Damian Wayne would be more of a challenge than controlling Dick. At least with Dick there had been something—the Titans—Slade could use to control him. His personality too was more malleable. Damian Wayne was far too much like his father, far too dangerous even as an assassin's apprentice.

Better to start manipulating someone when they're a teenager rather than a child. But Slade wasn't here to manipulate anyone. He was here to rescue Addie—whose life was very much in danger. If Slade could have done this alone then he would have. However, Batman needed a Robin, and to complete this mission Slade needed them both.

Dick's daughter changes everything. Slade hadn't thought much about Mar'i Grayson since he had walked in on Dick's transmission. It didn't matter if Dick was a young father—after all, Slade started fairly young himself—he was a father now. He would understand why Slade did the things he did, and the things he was about to do.

-AP-

Wayne Penthouse

Gotham City

Although Alfred's worry over Dick and Damian didn't go away, he did like the fact that Major Wintergreen was infinitely more tolerable than Slade Wilson. He felt puzzled that Master Dick never talked about the major, but then again Dick hardly talked about the apprenticeship at all. If Wintergreen had never been injured, Alfred would have never known that there was someone else who tried to help him.

"Ever feel like an empty nester?" Wintergreen asked.

"With Master Bruce continually adopting children? I never feel alone. Do you have any children of your own, Major?"

"Third wife took the kids. I see them every once in a while."

Alfred was tempted to ask why Wintergreen chose to work for Slade in the first place, but perhaps it would be better for all present not to mention Slade Wilson. The intercom began to bleep. Without getting up from his seat, Alfred checked it. "We have visitors."

"Friendly?"

"It's Rose and Joseph!" Alfred didn't hide the surprise in his voice.

"What?"

The two young Wilsons waved at Alfred through the camera. Weren't they supposed to be in Jump City with the Titans?

"Hiya, Al," Rose said. "Can you let us in? We heard Major Wintergreen's at your place."

"Major," Alfred said, turning towards Wintergreen. "They've come to see you. I'll bring them here."

They must have been informed of Wintergreen's injury. Alfred understood that Joseph was not supposed to know about Master Dick's whereabouts, but the boy couldn't be kept in the dark for long. Alfred would have preferred not to be the one who told him the truth about Master Dick's new partner, but if he must then so be it.

"Good afternoon," Alfred said as he opened the door. "I suppose you heard about Major Wintergreen."

"Uncle Will!"

Mindful of his injuries, Rose hugged him. Smiling, Joseph joined them. A wide warm smile spread across Wintergreen's face as he stepped back to look at them.

"Why are you here?" Rose asked.

"It's Richard's doing," Wintergreen replied.

"I'm glad you're getting the best health care the Bats can buy." Joseph nodded, signing rapidly.

"Er... I'm still learning sign language, Joey," Wintergreen said. "You're doing well, I trust?"

"Why don't we come inside?" Alfred said, gesturing for them to come in. "I'm sure Major Wintergreen would prefer to stay inside."

"I would prefer to see them however I please." Wintergreen accepted Joseph's extended arm and leaned against it for support. "Trust me, Pennyworth, I appreciate your concern, but having them here is the best medicine anyone could offer."

Perhaps they weren't so different after all. As Wintergreen and Rose talked animatedly, Alfred stood a little ways back. This was not his family. Of course he knew the Wilson children, but he was not particularly close to them.

All four of them walked back towards the living room. Alfred didn't know how long they would stay, but he was sure that Master Dick wouldn't mind having Rose and Joseph in the house.

The lights flickered. Static danced across the multiple computer screens as the power suddenly died. Everything electronic turned off.

"What's going on?" Rose asked.

Beside him, Rose unsheathed her sword. Good lord, the girl could be just as bad as Damian when it came to knives and swords. Alfred began to type furiously on the keyboard.

"Communications are down," Alfred said. "Nothing and no one is online."

That was odd. Barbara was always online, even if the JLA communication system was down. She had helped design the systems, after all.

Well, bugger.

"Wait." Alfred suddenly pushed a button. "Major, are you well enough to walk?"

"If I have to, I will."

Suddenly, Alfred was glad that Wintergreen was on his side. If there was a firefight, then Alfred could count on him.

"What's going on, Alfred?" Rose asked.

Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. While the situation was still uncertain, Alfred had been in enough uncertain situations to know when firearms were needed. Alfred took out his gun and cocked it. "We are, I'm afraid, under siege."

-SB-

Gotham City

Jason moved fast.

Steph hissed as Jason slashed her face with his dagger. A thin trickle of blood dripped down to her collar. She wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.

"Is that the best you got?" Jason asked. "Pathetic, Bat-turd."

"That was just the appetizer." Steph cracked her knuckles. "You wanna try the main course?"

"So long as there's dessert."

Oh, he was almost as good as Dick. A knee to the gut knocked the air out of her. While she struggled to breathe he grabbed her head and slammed her against the brick wall. Bright lights sparkled in front of her eyes.

"You... like it... dirty, Jayjay?"

"Dirty as mud-pie."

Jason grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and yanked her head backwards. Ignoring the throbbing pain, Steph spun around and bit the fist that grabbed at her neck.

We've both been trained by the greatest hero this side of the country and we've both resorted to biting and hair-pulling. How nice.

Hissing in pain, Jason let go and threw another bloodied fist at her face. Batwoman couldn't get too close to them without hurting Steph. She stood awkwardly to the side, holding her batarang high, trying to time her throw.

"Stay still, Todd," she growled.

A knee to the balls brought Jason down. Steph straddled him, pushing him down by the shoulders into the rough cement. "Stop it."

He spat a mouthful of blood into her face.

"Sorry." Steph brought back her fist and punched him right in the face. Using Jason's momentary dizziness to their advantage, Steph sprang off him, pulled him up, and shoved him backwards into Batwoman, who yanked him into a headlock.

His hands grabbed uselessly at the arm around his neck. Steph cut away Jason's utility belt with his own dagger.

"Oh, you ladies like it this way, eh?"

"Stop it, Jason. What's going on?"

"Like I said, it's none of your business." After a few moments Jason stopped struggling. "Look, I don't know what's going on. I'm just one pawn, all right?"

It sounded like Jason was taking orders from someone. If so, then who? Asking Jason outright might not be the best idea, so Steph tried another tactic. "How did you know that Deathstroke contacted Dick?

"Someone attacked Deathstroke in Jump City—"

"Jump City isn't your area."

"Very observant, Brown. But Deathstroke came here and broke into the Wayne penthouse. I've got the place bugged. I have their whole conversation on record."

Stephanie searched Jason's face. It wouldn't surprise her if Jason did have the place bugged, but his uneasy grin betrayed him. What was he hiding?

"We take him in, anyway," Batwoman said. "He's still responsible for other deaths."

A sudden bright light shone down on them. Distracted, all three of light looked towards the source of light. Wayne Tower—where Dick's penthouse resided—was lit up like a Christmas tree. Helicopters buzzed around the Tower, shooting bullets and flames into the windows.

"Alfred?" Stephanie's eyes widened.

The penthouse. No one else was home except for Alfred and Slade's friend. They were still inside!

"Didn't think they would go there," Jason said quietly.

"Who? Go where?" Steph demanded. "Help us!"

"And why should I help?" Jason asked.

"It's not Bruce or Dick or Tim in trouble, Jason! It's Alfred!"

"So?"

"What is wrongwith you?" Steph demanded. "If you're better than Batman, then at least help the man who helped raise you!"

Appealing to Jason's emotions was a long shot. For a moment she thought she got through to him. I mean, Steph thought, who doesn't like Alfred? Everyone likes Alfred.

"Hey! I got my own problems to deal with!"

He began to twist violently, trying his hardest to free himself. No more witty banter. No more dirty jokes. Steph never thought that she would see the day Jason Todd scared enough to run away from a fight.

"Let him go," Steph said.

"What?"

"Saving Alfred is more important." She glared at Jason. "Do you know anything about this?"

Batwoman released him. Jason licked his chapped lips uneasily. He glanced towards the penthouse. "I have my own secrets to keep, Brown."

Like a frightened dog with its tail between its legs, Jason scuttled off into the night. Letting him go might have been a bad decision, but what else could they do? The Red Hood would be arrested another night.

"What the hell was that about?" Batwoman asked.

"We're going to keep a closer eye on him."

Her wrist beeped as the tracker she placed on Jason's helmet activated. Whoever—or whatever—had Jason running around like a beaten dog would be taken down before the week was out.

"Most if not all communications are down," Batwoman said. "Everything and everyone is off-line. Oracle will have to reboot her systems or Martian Manhunter needs to telepathically connect us."

Bruce's communication system had failed? Now there was something worth tweeting about.

-JH-

109.9 Radio Station

San Francisco, California

Jared Holden regretted the late-night shift, but the quiet was oddly comforting. Playing the same pop songs over and over again sometimes drove him crazy, but he enjoyed his work.

No one ever suspected him to be involved in the cape community. After that fiasco ten years ago, Jared deliberately distanced himself from them. It wasn't that he wanted to help Dick. The guy never kept his promise. He had never caught Slade and put him in jail. But at least Dick had found him and warned him that Slade was on the move. A lot of help that was, if Slade really did decide to come back to kill off the rest of the Holden family.

As he played commercials the phone rang. Jared pushed his office chair across the room and reached out for the phone. "This is Jared Holden. What's up?"

"Bruce Wayne's penthouse is under attack," his news contact said. "Doesn't Wayne Enterprises help fund our program?"

Indeed it does. Jared had never wanted a handout from Wayne, but for some reason Wayne wanted to help him out. Felt guilty...or something like that.

Bruce is always using someone, Dick had said years ago.

"Yes, Bruce Wayne does."

"I never quite understood that. Why-?"

Jared set the phone back in the charger. No one—not even his wife and kid—knew the real reason why his father died. Jared's hand subconsciously massaged the scar on his chest where Slade Wilson had shot him. Remembering made the old wound twinge painfully. Andrea—his wife—sometimes ran her slender fingers over the scar and asked him where he got it. He hated lying about it. As the George Thompson Diamond radio commercial played for the ten-thousandth time that day, Jared tuned it out, closed his eyes, and thought about Dick Grayson's unexpected visit a few days ago.

"Daddy, there's someone at the door."

Jared looked up from his laptop and froze when he saw who it was. Yes, it had been ten years since he had seen Dick Grayson in person, but it was kind of hard to forget him. The newspapers had exploded when Dick Grayson returned from the "kidnapping" scandal. Larry Holden's death meant nothing to the tabloids.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Dick said. "Can I come in?"

Ten years had passed, though Jared knew it was the same kid he had helped. It was hard not to know who Dick Grayson was anyway these days, what with him being the new face of Wayne Enterprises and all.

"Yeah, sure," Jared said. "Get inside before someone sees you."

It wouldn't do to have the neighbors talking about Dick Grayson appearing in the neighborhood. Allison, Jared's daughter, looked up curiously at Dick as she scurried shyly behind Jared's legs.

"Sorry I didn't call ahead," Dick said. "I don't mean to bother you, but something's come up."

"Allie, why don't you find Mommy?"

Without a word she ran off down the hallway.

"Cute kid," Dick said. "I have a daughter too."

"Funny how fast they grow, isn't it?"

They murmured in agreement. Jared gestured towards an armchair. "Sit down. It isn't often I host a member of the Wayne family."

As Dick did, Jared opened two beers. The reason Jared didn't want any contact with Dick anymore was because his father's death still hung over him. It wasn't Dick's fault—Jared knew that—but it was hard not to associate him with his dad's murder. Besides, there were other disagreements.

"We aren't friends anymore." That ended when Dick had failed to arrest Slade. "What do you want?"

"First, I come with a warning: Slade Wilson is active again."

"Are you going to arrest him this time?"

"No."

Dick looked to the side. He had had other things to worry about. Things changed. He understood that.

"You know," Jared said, "I was really mad about it, but I think I have you figured out: you trusted Slade, didn't you?" Jared drank. "Got chummy with him, didn't you?"

"To keep my sanity, yes."

To give him credit, Dick didn't seem proud of it. Jared felt little sense of pride that he had helped Dick get out of that horrible situation. He had been caught between a sense of uneasiness and determination to help. Meddling in a supervillain's affairs was bound to get someone killed, but aiding Robin in any way possible was the right thing to do.

"Well," Jared said, "I don't blame you. Thought you were going evil for a sec, to be honest."

They didn't talk for a few moments. Clearly, Dick was just as uncomfortable talking about it as Jared was. At least they still had that in common.

"You moved out of Casper," Dick said.

"Yeah, but I kept Dad's place in Smallfax."

"Where?"

Jared looked at him oddly. "Smallfax... you know, the place where I found you."

"Oh." Dick blinked once. "Ten years later and I never bothered to learn where I was."

"I didn't want the cabin at first," Jared said, tilting his cup slightly. "But Dad willed it to me, and after what happened I... I just couldn't let it go."

"Even with Slade's place down the road?"

"It's been in my family since my grand-dad bought it. Most of the property in Smallfax is family-owned, including the Wilson's place."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. See, what really threw us off-guard was the fact that my dad knew Slade as a kid. Sort of grew up with him when his folks came up to buy property. Everyone knew everyone." Jared glanced at the bottle, but then thought better of it. "Anyway, why are you here? You must need something."

"I needed to apologize. For not arresting Slade, I mean."

"That apology is ten years too late."

What did Dick expect him to do? Work out like Rocky, put on tights and fight crazies? No, that wasn't the right response. It would just lead to more death and destruction.

"The offer to work for Wayne Enterprises still stands," Dick said. "Bruce would be more than willing to hire you for WayneTech."

"I don't need charity."

"You managed to break into the JLA Watch Tower's security system when you were twenty. Not many can do that."

"From what I know, people connected to you and Bruce Wayne have a lousy habit of dying." Or getting shot.

"Why didn't your dad call for help? Why did he let Slade shoot him?"

Those questions didn't have easy answers. Dad left him no answers, no secret codes hidden in the will or in the house.

"Maybe he believed that Slade wouldn't kill him. Maybe he believed that there was still some good in him. I don't know for sure." Jared shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want a superpowered fight in Smallfax. Protect everyone else who didn't know about the situation. I've seen the kind of collateral damage your people do.

"Do you know what my dad told me before this all started?" Jared asked. "He told me to be your friend, that being your friend was the best thing I could do to help."

"Your father allowed both of us the chance to escape. It is something I cannot hope to repay."

Dick had gone to the funeral, hovering in the background with Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Bruce Wayne had not bothered to come. It would have attracted attention. Jared had not answered any questions about what Dick was doing there. All the same, it was right that he had come. Lawrence Holden would have been sad if Dick hadn't come.

"Slade's on the move. I don't want to ask anything of you, especially after all you've done for me." Dick held out a black communicator. "This is the Bat-Communicator. If anything happens, please contact me or Alfred."

Jared took it. The sleek, sharp Bat-symbol dominated the rotund communicator.

"But aren't you with the Ti—"

He was gone. Not a trace of the former Boy Wonder was left in his living room. Then again, as Jared studied the communicator closely he realized that he not be dealing with Nightwing anymore, but the man wearing the Batman's mask.

The Bat-Communicator buzzed. He flipped it open and found a red-haired woman staring back at him. It took a few seconds for him to remember who it was.

"Oh... didn't recognize you in the... um..." He gestured aimlessly, not wanting to draw attention to the wheelchair. "How are you, Batgirl?"

"Oracle. Someone else has that name now."

She wasn't one for small talk, was she? Without waiting for him to apologize she went on to debrief him.

"All cape communications are down except this one," Oracle said. "I got five minutes before this one goes out too. WayneTech was the first to go."

"My guess is that WayneTech provides for a lot of JL communications?"

"You could say that."

Barbara had never been a huge fan of Jared's involvement. Civilians should stay out of the way as much as possible, else they might get hurt like Jared had. Of course, Jared had never wanted to get involved with the capes in the first place.

"What do you want me to do?" Jared asked. "All Dick told me was that Slade was on the move and that I should keep this communicator handy."

"He's in Qurac with no hope of communication with us. If something happens to him or his sidekick, then we can't do anything to help him," Oracle replied.

"Look, when Dick asked me for 'help,' he was a little vague."

"You're near Jump City, and you have knack for breaking through JLA security. I need you to help me re-establish communication with Titans Tower."

"What if whoever's targeting you guys targets me?"

"Your call, Jared."

He glanced at the radio station. He needed to go back to work. What was it with these people?

"I'm assuming that my refusal will mean the utter destruction of mankind by some planet-eating alien?"

"Something like that."

Jared sighed. "Let's get started, then."

-DW-

Somewhere in the Balkans

Overnight Train

Being cooped up in this awful speeding coffin wasn't exactly Damian's idea of a way to travel. Grayson spent most of his time going over information with Wilson. Hours passed by excruciatingly slowly. Trying to learn advanced medical techniques from Grayson was boring. Damian was almost ecstatic when lunch came around.

"You decided to join me for lunch as well," Wilson said, setting down his menu. "I'm surprised."

"Eating meals with you isn't foreign to me," Grayson replied.

Before Damian slid into the seat across from Wilson, Grayson grabbed his arm. "Remember what I said, Damian," Grayson said in a low voice. "Don't speak with him unless absolutely necessary."

"And you are qualified to speak freely?"

"Slade has exhausted every manner of manipulation with me. Indulge his nostalgia and let me talk to him."

Pander to Wilson's nostalgia. TT. What kind of a tactic was that?

However, Damian didn't question Grayson out loud. There had to be a reason why Grayson was insisting on meals with the mercenary. If anything, Damian had expected Grayson to avoid interacting with Wilson at all costs.

He suspects something, Damian thought suddenly. Grayson's using every method of persuasion at his disposal to place Wilson in a false sense of security, make him believe that he is in charge of the situation.

Suddenly it all made sense. It didn't matter if Grayson found interaction with Wilson unpleasant or not—he was always on guard, always attempting to uncover any foul play Wilson may have in store for them.

To avoid engaging in conversation Damian glanced around the dining cabin. There were a few businessmen scattered around the place. A Turkish family was eating lunch in another part of the cabin, a small family of a couple and their two small girls.

"That's strange..." Grayson muttered suddenly.

"What?" Damian asked.

"I can't contact Barbara."

Grayson opened the back of the Bat-Communicator and began to fiddle with it. Was something wrong with the transmitter? Damian wasn't sure, he was just making an educated guess. Curious, Slade leaned over to look at it. "It's not broken. I thought I taught y—"

"You shut up."

Their bickering was so annoying. This was quite possibly the worst team-up ever conceived. Whoever thought that this was a brilliant idea should be shot.

Major Wintergreen's words, however, settled in Damian's mind. If Grayson was honoring a debt to the major, then it made this mission less insane. If, however, Grayson felt the need to do this for Slade then Damian would slap him across the face.

"I really don't understand," Grayson said. "Why can't I—"

Suddenly, the cabin rocked violently, throwing Damian out of his seat. Shoving Grayson's flailing form off, Damian sprang to his feet and looked around. The train still hadn't slowed down, although the other people in the dining cabin were glancing around as well. Heat kissed Damian's face as he was knocked off his feet.

"What the hell was that?" Wilson demanded.

People screamed as the side of the train was blasted open. The wind howled like a wild banshee as the train rattled along the mountainous track, whipping Damian's hair from his forehead. A squad of ninja leapt through the open hole, menacing their weapons. Seriously? Ninjas?

"No time to change," Grayson said. "We deal with this now."

Good call on his part.

"You got a plan?" Wilson asked.

"Oh, you're letting me be in charge?"

"Wanna see if we still got the moves? We're trained for this sort of thing."

"You made me a trained dancing monkey—"

"Then dance, monkey!"

"Silence!" Damian snapped. "Grayson, if you are the leader then act like it!"

Listening to them argue was worse than watching melodramatic soap operas with Brown. Honestly, both of them were so childish. Grayson snapped out of it.

"Right. Damian, get the civilians out of the way. Slade, you and I will take these ninjas out."

There was no time to argue with him. Logically, their attackers would assume that Wilson and Grayson were the bigger threats. Getting the civilians out of harm's way wouldn't take too long.

There was too much noise, Damian couldn't concentrate.

"Halte die fressa!" Damian shouted.

They stared at him like he was insane. Of course, their natural prejudices wouldn't allow them to follow a ten-year-old's orders.

"What did you say to them?" Grayson shouted.

"I told them to shut up."

This was their fight. No civilians were going to get into this. As more assassins stormed into the cabin Damian continued to shout orders, repeating them in English and Arabic whenever necessary. Slowly, the civilians followed his directions.

As Damian turned to look back upon Grayson and Wilson he froze, his eyes suddenly fixed on the pair of them. Being told the story was one thing, but watching them fight together was truly uncanny. Despite the fact that Damian had been bombarded with the story of the apprenticeship many times over the past week, it was hard to really believe it without evidence.

They fight better together than Grayson and I!

That would be remedied soon. Having the mercenary outshine him wouldn't do. Damian was much more compatible with Grayson than the stupid mercenary was. To prove his point, Damian grabbed a steak knife and flung it. A gush of blood leaked from the ninja's throat.

"Well done, Way—!" Wilson shouted.

"I said no knives!" Grayson interrupted. "Protect the passengers! That is an order!"

Someone else screamed.

Damian spun his head around. A sudden jolt had thrown the little Turkish girl out of the car. Leaving the toughs to Grayson and Wilson, Damian rushed towards her and snatched her wrist. The train suddenly rattled over a crevasse. What excellent luck.

The girl tried to grab his other hand, but the train's rocky swaying prevented her from doing so. She muttered Arabic prayers, the same ones that Damian memorized a lifetime ago.

"Don't worry, I've got you!" Damian shouted over the roar of the wind.

Despite his best effort, he couldn't pull her back onto the train. "Grayson! Help me!"

He twisted his body to avoid getting hit by a tough Wilson tossed near him.

The girl's death would be unnecessary, Damian told himself. She must be saved. I must save her. That is what it means to be Robin, I must—

Her terrified scream ripped through him as he accidentally let go, the sudden jolt of the train throwing him off-balance. Damian reached instinctively for his utility belt, but it wasn't there. He was in civvies.

No.

Damian flung himself forward in a last effort to grab her. He was so close, so very close—

"DAMIAN!"

Grayson tackled him, nearly throwing them both out of the train in the process. For a moment Damian forgot that Grayson was his ally. In a few seconds Damian's shoulders were pinned to the ground, Grayson's shouts lost in the cacophony of noise. Grayson's mouth opened and closed comically. What was he saying? Flecks of blood landed on his cheek from a nasty cut on Grayson's face. Was the battle over already?

Grayson pulled him to his knees. He wasn't even aware of how tightly Grayson's arms were wrapped around him, how Grayson's body was curled around his to protect him from harm.

"It's gonna be okay, Little D. There's nothing we can do. There's nothing you can do...nothing..."

For once Damian had nothing to say. People were crying and screaming hysterically. Someone was trying to talk to him, but Damian only heard incoherent mumbling.

"Alles klar? Alles klar?"

No we're not, Damian wanted to say, but he couldn't form words. Words in German and English and Arabic and all sorts of tongues drifted through his ears. Someone pulled them away from the gaping hole. The train rumbled to a halt, but neither of them moved.

Although Damian made no move to hug Grayson back, he did not push him away.

I failed.


	9. Baklava

Chapter 9: Baklava

-DW-

Train Station

Croatia

He allowed Grayson to daub at the cuts on his face as he sat on a bench, his legs swinging impatiently. People milled about as police swarmed the scene, jabbing in a dozen different languages. The gaping, ragged hole blown into the side of the train exposed its delicate innards. Great damage was done to the dining cabin. Probably unfixable.

"That fight was rather quick," Damian said.

"It needed to be over fast. Fighting in an enclosed space is always no bueno." Grayson plastered a bandage over the nasty scrape on Damian's forehead. "There. You sure you're okay?"

"I am undamaged." He waved Grayson away. "Leave me be. I do not require your assistance."

As Grayson protested, Wilson popped out from behind a door. He had mysteriously disappeared when the Croatian police came around to interrogate them.

"Let me find out where we are," Wilson said. "See if there are any trains going straight to Istanbul. We can't linger."

"Fine. Whatever," Grayson said.

He sounded so petulant. What was his problem? After fighting back their attackers, why should Grayson be angry towards Wilson? No matter, there would be time to discuss that later. Whoever sent those ninja after them would be back soon. Damian stood up. The Croatian police wanted to interrogate them in particular, since all three had managed to ward their attackers off. One ninja was currently being sent to the hospital, courtesy of the knife Damian sent spinning into his neck.

"Dick, you want to talk to the wounded guy?" Wilson asked.

"He will soon die from blood loss," Damian announced. "His agony will only be pro-longed."

A deep, exasperated sigh escaped Grayson, though he said nothing. He understood—for once—that if Damian had not killed the man, Grayson would be dead.

"I guess you've taken care of that, Wayne," Wilson said carefully. "I gotta go. I'd rather not stick around."

Slimy mercenary. Still, Damian would prefer not to interact with the law enforcement either. Anyone could be the enemy in disguise.

"Damian...," Grayson said.

"What?" Damian snapped.

"There's someone here to see you."

Looking up, Damian saw the father of the girl he had tried to save walking straight towards him. Dick's firm hand keep him sitting down. Grayson's face said enough. It took a great amount of willpower for Damian to look up at the newcomer.

The man studied his face briefly before addressing him in Arabic. "That was very brave of you, boy...trying to save my daughter from falling. You could have died."

"I did what was necessary." Damian paused. "And...right." A sudden wave of embarrassment rolled over him. Why was the father saying these things? Why was he present at all?

"What is your name?"

"Damian."

"Are you his father?" The man asked, turning to Grayson.

"Me? Ah, no, no, no," Grayson stammered, holding up his hands. "I'm more like his big brother. His legal guardian. His father is away on business."

People always presumed that Grayson was his father. How annoying. Grayson looked nothing like him, anyway.

"If it is fine with you," the father replied, "my wife would like to give Damian a gift."

"I... of course. Uh... by all means." Grayson looked just as startled as Damian felt.

All three surviving family members turned towards Damian.

"We thank you for attempting to save our daughter," the mother said. "Please, take this. It is homemade baklava. We were saving it for tonight. It was Nada's favorite..."

She handed him something wrapped in tinfoil. Talia had never made him such dishes (he was not certain if his mother even knew how to cook), but his nannies...

"Your gift will be graciously consumed," Damian said finally. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. Allah protect you and your companions, where ever your journey may lead. Peace be with you."

Religious, then. Damian was nothing of the sort, though he was familiar with the religious culture. The haunting calls to prayer, the endless verses... they did not define him, but they were part of him nevertheless.

They must be pilgrims traveling to Mecca. A pity, then, that the girl did not reach her destination before she died.

How terrible, to be so close and yet so far from her destination. His fingers flexed. He wanted to punch something.

I failed. I never fail.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Grayson asked.

"I am fine. We must continue."

He clenched his fist tightly The girl was dead. There was nothing he could do about it. There was no time for mourning.

-JH-

Jump City, California

Titans Tower

The drive down to Jump City was uneventful.

The Titans, according to Barbara Gordon, were out and about fighting bad guys. Restoring the Tower's communication system was the first thing to do. Jared felt a little uneasy about breaking into Titans Tower while the Titans were out, but he was only doing what Barbara had told him to do. Before his communicator died on him she sent him the necessary information to override the Tower's defense system.

He wondered if it was time to tell his family the truth. Jared wasn't some lackey the capes could call upon whenever they needed help. Then again, they had saved the world many times. He would do this as a favor to the other Titans, who had done everything they could to help him after the death of his father when Dick failed to do so. He liked them. There was no reason to hate them, especially when it was Dick's fault that Slade got away.

Dad was right. Forgiveness is so difficult.

After his encounter with Slade Wilson, he'd bought himself a gun. A true Cowpoke. Dad would be proud. Although Slade never came back to take vengeance, Jared could never be too careful. A concealed weapon might not do much against the mercenary, but it could slow him down.

Someone—Red Robin—grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him against the wall. "Who are you and what are you doing in the Tower?"

Even as he was fighting off dizziness, Jared wondered vaguely which Robin this was. The second or third? He couldn't quite remember. Three other Titans stood behind Red Robin, and he recognized all but two. Cyborg and Beast Boy were there. The other one—Blue Beetle—he knew by reputation alone.

"Cool it, Tim," a familiar voice said. "He's a friend."

Tim? Red Robin flinched, as though scared to hear his name spoken aloud. He let Jared go, though he still looked suspicious. As Jared slid to the floor, Cyborg walked towards him, two other Titans in tow. Cyborg stretched out a hand, which Jared shook.

"How have you been?"

"Could be better." Jared pointed towards the control panel. "Barbara sent me on a mission. All communications are down. I'm the repairman."

"Hey, no offense, man, but I can handle my own tech."

"Sometimes it takes another eye to see the flaws." Jared touched the control panel. "Besides, Bruce Wayne tried to recruit me to work for Wayne Tech, so I guess I'm good for something."

Sensing that he was an ally, the one called Blue Beetle transformed suddenly into his civilian identity.

"Hey, I recognize your voice," Blue Beetle said.

"A lot of people do."

Heh. Now he was the one with the secret identity.

"Hey, I know you and Dick had some sort of falling out..." Cyborg began.

"Yeah, well, he got himself into trouble again. Apparently I've been the fallback plan the whole time." Jared tapped a few buttons. "There. The West coast communication system should be back online in a minute."

"Dude, you know you don't have to do this if you don't want," Beast Boy said. "So why are you helping us?"

"Because no one ever suspects the civilian." Jared pulled a power lever upward. The Tower's security slowly flickered to life. "Run a scan through the security system. You gotta virus somewhere."

"And that's it?" Blue Beetle asked. "You're just gonna swoop in here, fix our stuff, and leave?"

"This isn't my mission. I'm not a hero," Jared replied. "I just stopped by. Make sure you keep the superpowered battles somewhere else."

Cyborg called out as Jared turned to leave. "The communication systems aren't completely back online! We still can't contact people in Gotham."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you posted."

"How?" Blue Beetle asked.

Time for the reveal. Funny, how he was the one with the secret identity to the new Titans. Taking a moment to get into character, Jared assumed his announcer's voice known throughout Jump City and the rest of the Bay area.

"This is your DJ Jared Holden on 109.9! Tune in for tonight's radio special, where your very own DJ will narrate events in Gotham City just for you." He smiled and waved. " Keep your communicators on."

-LH-

Gotham City

Arsenal and Arrowette stood on the edge of a rooftop, looking out over Gotham. Smoke rose from Wayne Tower. Lian wrinkled her nose at the smell. Her daddy stood beside her, straight-backed and proud just like the Saturday morning cartoon hero he was.

"Looks like Alfred has some unexpected house guests," he said.

He tapped the communicator once before putting it away. "The communicators have been down for hours. We can't risk using our personal cells."

"So how are we gonna talk to everyone?"

"We do it the old-fashioned way."

"What's the old-fashioned way, Daddy?"

"We go and actually talk to people."

Arsenal shot an arrow with a grapple hook across the busy street. Lian cackled with glee as she clutched her dad about the waist, watching her feet dangle over the speeding cars. She smiled as she caught sight of Stephanie waiting for them on another rooftop with Batwoman.

"Thanks for coming," Batgirl said. "We have four people trapped inside Wayne Tower: Alfred, Wintergreen and the Wilson kids."

"Since when did Ravager and Jericho get here?" Daddy asked.

"Since this afternoon. Come on, group huddle!"

Too short to lean against anyone, Lian stood in the middle of the group and looked up at everyone.

"We got flying monkey whatever things attacking Wayne Tower," Steph said. "We got four caped peeps here. One team needs to hold off the attack. Another should go in and try to find an escape route for everyone inside."

"Long-range attacks? Arrowette and I got this covered."

"Good! Batwoman and I will try to get inside and establish contact with them."

"Let's kick some bad-guy butt!" Daddy exclaimed.

"Go team!" Batgirl shouted.

They dispersed. Together she and Daddy scaled the wall with another grapple hook. Funny. Lian never expected to climb up Wayne Tower.

"Stay with me," Daddy said. "Keep an eye out for any baddies trying to sneak past us."

Helicopters full of guys in masks hovered over Wayne Tower. No one was gonna mess up Uncle Dick's house, nobody! Once they landed on the rooftop they both notched an arrow.

"I want you to hit the engines," Daddy said. "I'll deal with anyone trying to shoot us, unless you find the need to stop someone. Remember the number one rule?"

"No killing people," Lian replied. "Like Mommy does."

"Right. Let's do this!"

"Pew! Pew!"

Fire sprawled into the night sky as she fired explosive arrows into the helicopter's engines. As one went down she cheered and pumped her fist into the air. Daddy glanced at the helicopter and then to Lian.

"I should be worried about my daughter's delight over ultra-violence," Daddy muttered under his breath.

"I'm not ultra-violent!"

Like her mother and father, Lian laughed in the face of danger. No one could stop her! Bad guys look out: Lian Harper's in town!

-WW-

Wayne Tower: Penthouse

Gotham City

"Leave this to me," Rose said. "I'll slice down anyone who tries to come in."

"No, Rose," Wintergreen said. "First, we need to make a plan."

"Wayne Tower has the best security in Gotham," Pennyworth said. "Once an intruder was detected, the Tower initiated a lock down. Wayne Manor is more secure."

"Well, what do we have to do to get out?" Wintergreen asked.

"If the escape route built into the Tower isn't blocked, then we should go there. I'm certain that, despite the downed communications, Batgirl and Batwoman are already attempting to free us."

"You're not fighting, Will," Rose said. "What are you going to do, slap them with your crutches?"

"You're so like your father."

"Gee, I hope not."

"We need to get out of the building," Pennyworth said. "If there is anyone trying to get inside, we need to have a preemptive strike. Joseph, your powers will be of great use."

As much as Joey was his mother's child, so Rose was her father's. She had inherited all of Slade's tenacity, all his talents, though how much came from Sweet Lili Wintergreen could not say.

They came for me.

In that sense they were similar to their father. Both of them cared for Wintergreen. If it were not for him and his devotion to all of Slade's family, it would be even more shattered than it already was.

"You know how to use that, Pennyworth?" Wintergreen asked, pointing to the gun.

"How else have I stayed alive, with so many capes in this household? Master Bruce does have a no-gun rule, but I'm the only exception."

"Too bad you won't get to use that, Alfred," Rose said. "Joey and I will be doing the butt-kicking tonight!"

Rose was impulsive. She tended to rush into things without coming up with a solid plan, something that Slade had berated her for. Joseph was the most level-headed of Slade's children, but it was difficult to ask if he had a plan or not. Wintergreen didn't understand sign language as well as he would have liked to. Most of his communication with Joseph was through a pen and notepad.

"Whoever managed to take down the Tower's defenses is good," Pennyworth said. "We cannot rush into this, Rose."

Indeed. Why was she so violent? Wintergreen found himself comparing Rose to Grant. They might have gotten along well. As Rose began to argue, Wintergreen spoke up.

"Look, I may be injured but I don't want anyone to die on my account. Give me a gun, Rose." He held out his hand. Hesitantly, Rose handed him a spare one. Wintergreen took it and cocked it. "No one will die tonight."

-DG-

Train Station

Croatia

A brief respite, and then onward through the Balkans. Improvising was one of Dick's specialties. He spoke haltingly to a Croatian policeman, trying to ask him questions in English about the attack as the policeman shot questions at him. However much Slade wanted to run, they couldn't do that. It would only draw attention to themselves. After the policeman finished speaking to Dick, Damian walked up to him, a grim expression on his face.

"Aren't you going to lecture me?" Damian asked. "Tell me off for following you? Berate me for my failure?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I failed, Grayson!"

Comprehension dawned. Any sort of failure was sure to be met with punishment in the al-Ghul household. Possibly even worse than Slade's punishment had been.

"There was nothing else you could have done," Dick said quietly. "You did your best."

"She was the only casualty!"

"I know."

"There was no reason for her father to treat me the way he did! No reason for you to believe I'm fit for this mission." Damian kicked the dirt, his face twisted in anger. After a moment he looked up at Dick. "Then... you are not going to yell at me?"

Why must he sound so surprised? "Of course not, Damian. Never for something like this."

When they first met, Damian would have never tried to save a little girl. Regard for another person's life was something the al-Ghuls never taught him. Killing anyone for the greater good was seen as an accomplishment.

"Damian... it's okay to grieve."

"I am not grieving."

Taking the boy's shoulders and squeezing them gently, Dick knelt down to Damian's eye-level. "Are you sad that you couldn't save her?"

"If I cannot save a child, then I am unfit for this role."

"You can't change the past, Damian."

"Well then, there should be a way!"

Times like these reminded Dick that he was dealing with a ten-year-old, and that no matter how much Damian believed himself superior, he was still a child. Bereft of tears, Damian merely leaned against Dick's chest and huffed.

"Damian, listen to me: your mother and the League of Assassins taught you how to suppress your emotions. You are not a robot."

"Of course I am not."

"In a metaphorical sense. What I meant—"

"I know what you meant."

He was hurting in so many ways, and he didn't even know it. Dick wrapped his arms around Damian and hugged him, giving him the hug that Bruce hardly ever gave. "Hiding your pain doesn't make it go away."

"So it never goes away?"

Shutting his eyes tightly, Dick recomposed himself and tried to think of something to say. "Things may be bad now. They may hurt like an exposed nerve, but it will heal."

This is why I didn't want him to come, Dick thought. He thinks he's ready, but he's not.

A killer he may be, but Damian cared for people. Saving people was a lot more difficult than killing them, something that he was slowly figuring out the hard way. Forget the big bads with a flair for the dramatic, this kind of work mattered the most.

"People will die in this line of work," Dick said. "It's hard to accept, but that's just the way it is. We all need to find some peace with that."

What Dick didn't tell Damian was that everyone was constantly trying to find peace. Bruce—if he was still alive—had a difficult time with that. While there was no clear answer to any of Damian's questions, he could start by accepting his sadness.

"I'll never yell at you for your failures. I'm not like your mother, and I'm definitely not your father." Dick picked up the package given to Damian by the girl's father. "Why don't you eat your baklava?"

Slowly, hesitantly, Damian unwrapped the package. Dick had once heard that breaking bread with one another signaled peaceful intentions in some Arab traditions. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't.

The baklava was sweet and filling, and tasted faintly of wild honey.

-SW-

Outside the Train Station

Croatia

He played with his wedding ring. Last time he met with Addie, she hadn't been wearing hers.

Stupid,he thought. Stop deluding yourself. Nothing will ever go back to the way it was.

Like fine wine, his love for her seemed to grow stronger in her absence. Why was that? There had been other women. Sweet Lili was one. Pat another. But there was something about Adeline Kane that drew him to her like a comet being pulled into a planet's orbit. More like a black hole.

Cool-headed, intelligent, resourceful—she was the first woman he had fallen in love with. Slade cared for Pat and Sweet Lili, but he always compared every single new relationship with his one with Addie.

Nearly fifteen years they'd been divorced, and only twice had they come back together. Not permanently, but brief enough encounters to dismiss. Once for Grant's funeral and again when Addie hunted him down in Jump City.

Slade worked the ring off of his finger and held it up to the sunlight. Both of them had moved on to other people, so why did everything always come back to her?

I can't just let her die there.

Everything he had done before the divorce had been for her. One good deed would do nothing to redeem the many mistakes he had made

What a tragic tale of the star-crossed lovers. Who was the true fool? Was he, the mercenary who hid his actions from his family, the fool for hiding the truth? Nothing was ever so simple.

"Finally, I found you." Dick's voice. He sounded so far away.

As Slade turned around, he found Dick standing a little ways back, looking wary. His performance today had been very admirable, something Slade would have congratulated in another time, another place. Today, however, it had been necessary just to survive.

"You have any idea who sent the ninjas?" Dick asked.

Yes, in fact Slade did. It didn't matter, though. They had come with the intent of hurting them, and they had succeeded. No one had obtained any injuries, but the little girl's death had shaken Dick and Damian. Sooner or later Dick would piece everything together. There was time, though, to figure something out.

"No," Slade said. "Did you pick up any clues?"

"I was too busy fighting them off." He paused. "They could have easily overwhelmed us, but they left. You don't happen to know why, do you?"

Turning around, Slade found a hard expression on Dick's face. "Why, do you think I'm double-crossing you?"

"That depends." Dick glanced at the wedding ring in Slade's hand. "Has she really been kidnapped, Slade?"

Oh, he was asking for trouble.

"I thought you knew better than to ask about my personal business," Slade growled. "Of course she has. What other business would I have in Qurac?"

"Oh, I don't know. Your contracts have gone far and wide. Who's to say that you haven't had business in Qurac or Bialya?"

Assassinating certain Middle Eastern leaders was a recipe for disaster. Slade may be a mercenary-for-hire, but he wasn't stupid. Any contract that endangered the safety of the U.S of A wasn't one he would accept. Dick knew that.

"My only objective is to rescue my wife and get the hell out of here. Speculate all you want, so long as we get a move on."

It was time to go anyway. They had to figure out how to get from Croatia to Istanbul. One of Addie's men was rumored to be hiding out there as he tried to make his way back to Europe. It wouldn't surprise Slade if Addie's kidnappers had left one man alive for him to find. An Easter Egg hunt just for them.

"How else could they have known we were there?" Dick snapped.

His genial, almost humorous attitude was gone. Slade rounded on him. "You think I wanted to be attacked?"

"If you were hired to kill me you should've done it in Gotham!"

Idiot. Dick's imagination was getting the better of him. "Remember that it was your decision to accompany me now, just as it was your decision to do so ten years ago."

Was he going to have to talk Dick through this? Perhaps it was time for a little motivation. A pep talk. Dick looked miserable. What was it, then? The death of the little girl? Not that Slade didn't care about the civilian's death—the death of a child was always unnecessary—but why was he so gloomy? He hadn't let the little girl fall, Wayne had.

"It's all in your head, this... misery," Slade said. "It always has been. Remember this: Little Wayne flouts your authority. He may have threatened to kill me, but he doesn't respect you. Lying to yourself about it won't change a thing."

Dick stood very, very still.

"Overpowering Little Wayne won't be hard for me. If he tries to attack me, well...you know better than anyone what happens when I have a disagreement."

If there was one thing that would quiet Dick Grayson, it was threatening his friends. Damian Wayne was no different. Assassin child he may be, but his uncontrollable nature could be curbed with a good licking. Cupcakes and unicorns wasn't going to help that child. Discipline would.

"You stay away from him," Dick said.

"Or else what? He'll listen to me more than he'll listen to you. From what I understand, you don't have the guts to discipline him."

Words failed Dick as he began to splutter. Parenting tips weren't something Slade gave out often. Whatever Dick thought, he must know that Slade was right.

I'm doing you a favor, boy.

"I'm not you. I won't hit him for doing something wrong."

"Why? Because you still have nightmares?"

"Because you're sadistic and manipulative while I'm—"

That did it. The time for staying on Dick's good side was past. Slade drew back his fist and punched Dick in the face. Before Dick could stand up, Slade kicked him hard in the ribs.

"I don't have time for your self-righteous bullcrap," Slade snapped. "Do what you have to do to keep your Robin in line. If you won't, then I will, and I know you don't want me to."

A docile Damian Wayne would make everything so much easier, though the same could be said for Dick Grayson. Coughing, spluttering, Dick rolled onto his belly and pushed himself to his knees.

"Don't tell me what to do." He stood up. "You have no right. You don't know what he's been through—"

"We all have stories that would make most men's skins crawl. You take the pity fest somewhere else." Slade shook his head. "If he threatens my life again, I'll make sure he regrets it."

He wasn't sure what made him so angry so suddenly. Damian had threatened him a few nights ago, but Slade had disregarded the boy's temperament until now.

Slade clapped a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Shape up, Dick. You want the kid to listen to you? Well, I can tell you that you're not hard enough on him. He's grown up with people who treated him harder than you treat him. That's why he doesn't respect you."

The time for attacking Bruce Wayne was long gone. Today his son had disobeyed a direct order and killed on the job. While Slade didn't mind the killing—he had, after all, left enough bodies in his wake—there was something uncanny about the way Little Wayne killed. There was no joy in it, and he did not care about the man's life. He didn't seem to care about anyone's life unless they proved themselves worthy to him.

Besides, if you're good at something, never do it for free.

"He killed again today," Slade said. "That man is probably dead. Discipline Damian. We can't leave a trail of bodies behind us."

Honestly, what was worse? The knife in the neck or the little girl dead?

"Time for you to step down," Slade said. "I'm in charge. Always have been. You know what needs to get done. Trust me."

How was that for a motivational speech? He'd always been good with those. Wordlessly, Dick nodded and walked off. Suppressing all suspicion was going to be harder than he thought, but now that Dick was suspicious perhaps Slade should just tell him the truth.

Not that it would make anything easier.

No one else knew the truth, not even Wintergreen. If Wintergreen had known, then he would have tried to stop this. He could have died. Whatever the outcome, nothing good was going to come out except for Addie's assured safety.

And even that's not assured.

Call it nostalgia, call it obsessiveness, but Slade hadn't wanted Dick involved in the first place. Everything had to be contained, controlled, and Dick was a liability. Cut that, Batman was a liability. But what was done was done. So God help them, they were all in this together.


	10. Chapter 10: Contracts

-JW-

Penthouse

Gotham City

Keeping quiet and following orders was what Joey did best. It was difficult to be a leader, especially with his loud-mouthed sister in tow. If she could, she would take over Tim as leader of the Titans and lead them all to destruction. Well, she was getting better about keeping the violence under control. Somewhat.

"We need to flank them," Wintergreen said. "We have three guns. We should split up."

Alfred nodded. "Rose, stay with Wintergreen. Joey, come with me." He pointed to the hallway. "Our best bet is to get to the basement. We can get into the Batmobile and exit that way."

Gunshots popped near them. Alfred and Rose began to fire upon the advancing attackers, who made no move to slow down. Wintergreen threw away one of his crutches and limped after them, fumbling with his gun. Grunts of pain echoed in the hallway as Alfred shot out a man's kneecap.

"Apologies," Alfred called out.

As Joey watched he realized that Alfred wasn't shooting to kill, though he could if he wanted to. Rose and Wintergreen were certainly going to kill people. It made his stomach twist just thinking about it, but he couldn't stop them. Not while they had a good chance of dying.

Amid the shooting and the shouting and chaos they somehow made it down to the lower levels of Wayne Tower.

"Wait," Joey signed to Alfred. "I have an idea. Can you knock one out?"

"Of course." Alfred loaded another magazine into the gun. "Wait here."

Please be careful, Joey thought. He knew that Dick would be so unhappy if Alfred got hurt.

A bullet whizzed past Joey's head. Spinning around, he saw a masked man dressed all in black rushing towards him. Joey kicked and punched his way free, silently apologizing for each hit. He ripped the man's mask off and stared straight into his startled face.

Contact!

He possessed the attacker. One of the more pleasant side effects of his powers was the ability to read someone's most recent memories. After a few moments Joey gained complete control.

"It's me, Alfred," Joey said in the man's voice, which was rough and unfamiliar. "One moment, I can access his recent memories."

Voices Joey didn't recognize floated through his mind, some in languages he didn't recognize. He did, however, recognize one name: Wintergreen.

"What is it, Joey?" Alfred asked.

"This is not an attack upon the Bats,"Joey said.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

"Wintergreen's presence attracted them."

A sudden boom distracted them. The walls shook. Bits of plaster sprinkled the floor.

"REGROUP!" Alfred shouted. "We have someone trying to come in through the back!"

Within seconds they regrouped, with Rose carrying Wintergreen on her back. How she managed to support Wintergreen's weight was beyond him.

"You're going to break your back, girl," Wintergreen said. "Put me down."

"Oh, quit your whining."

Despite this, Rose did set him gently onto the floor. Joey was suddenly struck by the thought that Wintergreen looked decades older than he remembered.

All four of them gazed steadily at the door, waiting for whoever was behind it to burst through. Beads of sweat rolled down Joey's face as he waited, the air pregnant with tension.

The walls trembled again. The lights flickered. Time passed so very, very slowly. Light footsteps pattered on the floor on the other side of the wall. His breath sounded much too loud in his ears.

With a terrible roar of sound the walls busted open, revealing a familiar burst of eggplant purple and a head full of red hair.

"Batgirl! Batwoman!" Rose exclaimed.

Joey was so surprised to see them that he accidentally slipped out of the man, leaving him slumped on the floor. The two women scanned the area to make sure that no one else was around before turning towards them.

"Alfred," Batgirl said, "are you okay?"

"Don't worry, no one's hurt," Alfred replied.

Groans of pain emanated from the man Joey had just possessed. Rose kicked him in the face.

"Can I shoot him?" she asked.

"No, we don't kill anyone in this house," Alfred said. "At least not while I'm around."

All six spun around as heavy footsteps thundered towards them. Before anyone could shout out an order Joey found himself engaged in battle. He moved instinctively to protect Wintergreen, who had raised his gun to shoot.

"Never mind," Rose cut-in. "We need to cut these losers down."

Blood flecked Joey's face as he moved, his movements fluid and precise. Perhaps he had inherited some of Slade's moves after all. Or maybe Mom is still way better than he is.

A shrill note filled the air. Their attackers stiffened, as though listening to someone. Both Rose and Wintergreen took the chance to shoot down two of them. Without so much as a backward glance the attackers fell back. What was going on?

-SB-

Wayne Penthouse

Gotham City

"Why are they retreating?" Rose demanded.

Of course Wayne Tower would be attacked while Dick was gone. How convenient. Before any of them could say or do anything their attackers were gone. After dealing with the wounded men Alfred made sure that Wayne Tower's security system was back online. Everyone stood in the basement of Wayne Tower, which served as Dick's Bat Cave. Steph watched Alfred mess with the security system.

"This was just a warning," Steph said suddenly. "They never intended to kill anyone, if they could."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure."

The question then was: why? If what Joey said was true, then were Slade's attackers after Major Wintergreen? They had attacked him in Jump City, so the only logical explanation Steph could think of was that they wanted to finish the job. Yet if this attack was a warning to Slade, then why bother cutting down all communication?

Because whoever kidnapped Slade's wife knows that Dick is working with Slade. Yes, that made plenty of sense. Barbara's voice floated over them, updating everyone on what the hell was going on.

"Communications are restored on the eastern coast," Barbara said. "No one else was attacked except for Wayne Tower."

"Does anyone have any idea who was behind this?" Rose asked.

"Batwoman and I think that Jason Todd had something to do with this," Steph said. "He mentioned working for someone. From the sound of it, he might have been coerced."

"But he's Jason," Roy said. "He's beaten most of the Batman villains to a pulp. Who could coerce him?"

The only people who knew enough about Jason's exploits after his resurrection—Bruce Wayne and Dick—weren't there to help. And if they managed to get a hold of Dick he could only tell them so much. They would have to make do.

"I bet I could beat some sense into him—" Rose said.

"No one is beating up anyone," Steph said. "I'm tracking him. Here, let me pull up the info on the Bat Computer."

A single bleeping dot betrayed Jason's position on the computer. He was leaving Gotham. Boy, could he move fast.

"He's running," Steph said.

"Running where, though?" Rose leaned against the desk.

The little red dot stopped.

"To meet someone," Batwoman said. "Turn on audio."

Jason's voice, defiant and angry, floated over them. "I did what you asked me to do. Give my stuff back."

"It was never yours to begin with," a male voice said. "My employer is patient. You are not done."

"Yeah, well I am!"

"You have not yet re-paid your debt."

Repaid his debt? What, did Jason make a pact with some demon? Did he have to sacrifice his firstborn child or what?

"I never asked to be in it in the first place!" Jason cocked his gun. "I'd rather be dead again."

Last night Jason sounded nervous, but not scared. Now he was practically pissing his pants. Dying wasn't something that Jason was scared of, that much Steph knew. So what was it, then? What was so important to him?

"We both know that's not what you want, Jason."

"I'm done here!"

Gunshots filled the air. A whimper. Labored breathing.

"Jason!" Alfred, this time.

Riveted, they listened to see if he was still alive. While Steph disliked Jason, she didn't want him dead. She didn't want anyone dead.

"You're crazy!" Jason snarled. "I...argh..."

Sounded like he was hurt bad. Oh boy, not again. Better not let anyone else pull a Joker on little Jaybird. Steph pulled her cowl back over her head. Time to boogey with Jayjay's blackmailers, whoever they were.

"We're gonna try a different tactic," Steph said. "Help him. Maybe then he'll be reasonable. Get the wine and cheese ready, Alfred. We have a date."

-DG-

Somewhere in Croatia

It only took a few hours for Slade to get his European contacts together. Dick may have good contacts among the capes, but not so much among normal people. Damian stayed near him all morning, still silently mourning the death of the girl.

"Thanks, Squirrel," Slade said into his communicator. "You've outdone yourself this time."

"Squirrel?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Nickname. His real name's Maurice. One of the my other trusted contacts."

I suppose I would have met him also, if I stayed with you. Dick said nothing. He didn't want to give Slade fodder for more apprenticeship jabs. Slade continued talking to Squirrel, ignoring both Dick and Damian.

"That contusion was not on your face this morning," Damian said suddenly.

"What?" Touching his face, Dick realized that Slade's punch must have darkened into a bruise. "Don't worry about it."

A punch to the face was the least of his problems. Dick would deal with Slade later. Dick had learned the hard way that aggravating a fight wouldn't solve anything. Suppressing the urge to punch him back was difficult, but he forced himself to end it quickly.

Slade went to go talk to a potential pilot. As they waited for Slade to return, Dick's communicator rang.

"Hey Babs," Dick said, flipping it open. "What happened? I wanted to talk to you yesterday."

"All communications were down," Babs replied. "There was also an attack on Wayne Tower."

"What do you mean Wayne Tower was attacked?" Dick demanded.

Damian looked at Dick as he yelled into his communicator. Dick should have been there, not here off on some rescue mission with Slade.

"Dick," Babs said firmly, "do what needs to be done over there, and do it fast. Gotham needs you."

"We were attacked too. Ninjas. Original, huh?"

Babs frowned. "It can't be coincidence. I'll look into it."

"No one was hurt during the attack, right?"

"The attackers broke into Wayne Tower, but Rose and Joey happened to be there. They were visiting Wintergreen. Wayne Tower needs to be fixed up, but no one was hurt. Oracle out."

He shut the communicator and began to rub his temple. Fantastic. Just what he needed to hear right now.

"What was that about?" Damian asked.

"Some villains decided to throw a party while I was gone." Dick put away his communicator. "We need to hurry up."

Slade walked back towards them, looking concerned. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing. Problems at home."

Always poking his nose in Dick's personal business, wasn't he? After Slade's little pep talk the earlier Dick didn't feel like talking to him. He's definitely hiding something, but what? Perhaps more investigation was needed.

"They'll manage," Slade said.

"Yeah, sure," Dick replied.

A dark-haired man followed behind Slade, though he stood a ways back. Smoke trailed from the cigarette stuck between his yellow teeth.

"I got a pilot," Slade said. Slade waved him over. "This is Anton."

"Hello!" The Russian accent was prominent. "You need ride to Istanbul? I will give you ride to Istanbul."

He wore a coat that Dick was certain belonged to some former Soviet general. If he had to guess an age, Dick would have placed him somewhere in his late fifties. Black stubble encased his face, which broke into a friendly smile.

"Is he trustworthy?" Damian asked in a low voice.

"No one is really trustworthy when you think about it, Wayne," Slade said. "We could all betray each other if we wanted to."

Those kinds of jokes may seem funny to Slade, but not to Dick. There was something odd about Slade's behavior, though Dick couldn't quite put his finger on it. Up until today he had blamed Slade's increasingly bizarre behavior on Addie's absence. Well, his behavior wasn't that unfamiliar, but what was making him irrational? It wasn't Damian's behavior, it was something else.

Punching Slade back wouldn't have benefited anyone. If Slade really didn't know who sent the ninjas, then his anger was understandable. Didn't make it acceptable, though.

"You're a pilot?" Dick asked in Russian (admittedly very rusty).

"Ya. I've done business with Mr. Wilson here before."

There were so many things he never told the other Bats. Sometimes, as part of a coercive language-learning strategy, Slade would make him speak in nothing but Russian. It had been annoying, to be honest, but it forced him to learn the language.

"I'm impressed," Slade said.

"Skills are skills," Dick replied, shrugging. "You taught me Russian, I just happen to use it."

"Come!" Anton waved them over. "Let us go!"

All this traveling made Dick feel sluggish. He was tired of running away, just barely moving forward towards their objective. For some reason he was certain that Slade was feeling the same way. Their little ball of hate was the only one with any energy, although Damian seemed to be trying to make up for the girl's death by putting a cap on his sarcasm.

Something nudged his elbow. Looking down, Dick saw Anton pushing a flask towards him. "What's that?"

"You look unwell," the pilot said. "Care for a pick-up?"

Dick took the flask, opened it and sniffed. Whoa. Pure vodka. How Russian.

-DW-

Airplane

Grayson had fallen asleep in his chair, his head lolling against the window. The Soviet (for Damian was certain that the man was a Soviet, despite the USSER's collapse many years ago) hummed a tune as he piloted the plane.

"You should sleep," Wilson said.

TT. Sleep? No, at least one of us needs to stay awake to watch you, Wilson.

"I don't need to sleep."

Besides, Grayson needed to sleep more. Of late, he hadn't been sleeping well. Probably an old habit he picked up from living with Deathstroke. Eh. It still boggled Damian's mind whenever he thought about the fact that Grayson had lived with Deathstroke during the apprenticeship. It was unacceptable.

"You scared of me, Wayne?"

"Hardly anything frightens me, Wilson."

"Everyone has their breaking point."

"What was Grayson's?"

"Sadistic, aren't you?" Wilson smirked. "His friends were."

Damian knew his breaking points. It was good to know them before going against a better or stronger fighter. Though, it was hard to truly find a breaking point without going mad. Continuing to stare venomously at Wilson, Damian frowned.

"Are you responsible for the contusion on Grayson's face?"

"If I am, what are you going to do, kill me?"

"Once this is over, I will."

"Dick won't like that."

"It is nothing less than you deserve."

Grayson had made it clear that this kind of harassment was unacceptable. Though Damian wanted to kick Wilson in the testicles, they were, after all, in a cramped plane. A fight would be better suited on the ground. A frown twisted Wilson's face.

"This is your last warning, kid. Threaten me again and you will regret it."

Damian's eyes narrowed. He glanced sideways at Grayson, who was still fast asleep. "Duly noted."

"Why don't you just go back to your mother's?" Wilson asked.

"I have lived there most of my life. I need to expand my horizons."

"You know," Wilson said. "Your mother got you here. Can't you ask her for help?"

"I do not wish to ask my mother for help again."

Access to his mother's contacts and supplies wasn't something Damian wanted to do often. He wished to separate himself as far as he could from her.

Wilson shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"You have contacts as well, Wilson. Isn't that how you obtained this communist's aid?"

"No stereotyping, Wayne. Just because he has a rather...shady history...doesn't mean he's a commie."

"True. Besides, it is better than my mother's help. You would not like the side-effects of her aid."

"The same could be said for any al-Ghul."

"Save for me."

No matter what anyone thought, Damian considered himself his father's son. That was why he took his father's name, rather than his mother's. "I will not aid you. I'm only doing this for Grayson."

"Go to sleep, kid." Wilson leaned his head back, clearly intending to try to sleep himself. "You're gonna want the rest."

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eye. Damian positioned himself between Grayson and Wilson. After a few minutes Wilson opened his eye.

"What?"

"Nothing. Please, continue resting, Wilson."

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

Wilson? Hurt him? TT. Wilson should be the one frightened. As the seconds passed Wilson shook his head. "I will not harm a child... unless you make me."

"You threatened to kill the Titans."

"They were not children then."

How did Wilson differentiate between a child and a teenager? Did Wilson disregard the fact that the Titans were teenagers? While the Titans were a force to be reckoned with, there was no pride to be had in over-powering a teenager or a child.

"What you did was despicable and cowardly."

Wilson gazed at him steadily. "You're more like Dick than you think."

"And why do you call him that?" Damian asked suddenly. "He is not Dick to you. Dick is a stupid and rather puerile nickname, and only his friends call him that."

No other villain who knew Grayson's identity called him that, only Wilson. Amusement flickered across Wilson's face. "You don't consider him your friend, then? Or your brother, which by the way he legally is?"

"He is my mentor." He is looking for a weakness, Wayne. Don't let him have it.

"Ah. I see." Wilson sighed and shook his head. "You're afraid that I'll hurt him."

Damn. "He should not have helped you."

"I'd rather not be nagged by both of you," Wilson replied finally, rolling his eye. "Please, go to sleep. We can chat about this in the morning."

The conversation was done. Crossing his arms over his chest, Damian huffed and settled down in his seat.

At least Wilson appreciated his talent for killing people. Having grown up with an ability to kill efficiently, Damian had a difficult time trying to stop it. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did believe in the sanctity of life. Well, life that mattered, anyway. Grand-father was always going on about how most of the world's population could be destroyed to balance out destruction against nature.

Wilson's files said that he was a filthy mercenary, albeit one who worked with a personal code. There had also been files on Wilson's family. Every single one of his friends and relatives held an impressive record, save for Wilson's firstborn. He sounded like an idiot.

You are untrustworthy, Wilson.

Anton took off his headphones and turned to face them. "We need to refuel in a few hours, okay? We stop in Bulgaria. Perhaps you will see Viktor Krum, eh?"

He laughed irritatingly at his own joke.

-SW-

Bulgaria

Anton landed to re-fuel in Bulgaria early the next morning. Slade hardly slept during the flight, though Little Wayne eventually nodded off. The plane's lumpy landing woke Dick right up. Everyone on board took the opportunity to get out of the cramped airplane to take a piss. Slade watched Dick stumble towards an outhouse before answering his ringing cell phone.

"Do you want to put a baby monitor on me?" Slade asked. "It won't take long. It'll be less work than you calling me up every twenty-four hours."

"We don't want to run the risk of your new partners discovering us."

"It won't take long for him to realize—"

"We will deal with that when it comes."

"Listen," Slade said, "whoever you are—"

"Suleiman Matar."

Finally, a name. Whoever this Suleiman Matar was, he was acting as the voice-piece of his employer, whom Slade had definitely run-into before. It annoyed Slade that he couldn't talk directly to his employer; he had never liked middle-men.

"Look, Mr. Matar," Slade said, "is there any other way to do this?"

But what I really want to say, Mr. Asshole, is that once I get there I'm going to skin you alive. Does that sound nice?

Negotiation, however, required a little more finesse than that. Considering the status of Mr. Matar's employer, it would be unwise to improvise.

"There is no other way. Don't try to negotiate. Your word is your bond, isn't it, Deathstroke?"

"This is extortion, not a contract."

"But why should it matter to you? You would have done it anyway, for the right price."

"No, I wouldn't have. I have standards, a code of honor—"

A sharp laugh cut off his monologue. "You're a very funny man, Deathstroke, do you know that?"

"So I've been told."

"You've wasted enough time. You should have come straight to Qurac. You will come with what my employer has requested, preferably undamaged."

Funny, how Slade never had enough time for anything these days. He clenched the strap of his bag tightly. "Yeah, yeah, I've got things covered on my end."

"Would you like to speak to your wife?"

Sweat slicked Slade's hand. "Yes."

The phone was passed on to someone else, who then passed it on to Addie. He heard her breathing into the phone, as though summoning up the courage to say something to him.

"You know who we're dealing with?" Addie said. "This is big, Slade. Leave me be."

"And let them win? No, I can't allow that."

"Your pride has nearly gotten our family killed, Slade. I'm perfectly capable of escaping myself. Get off this continent."

"It's not that simple, Addie—"

"Will you stop calling me that—

"There was an attack on Wayne Tower," Slade said.

"I know," Addie replied. "I heard them talking about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Joey, Rose, and Wintergreen were there. That's why."

Addie hardly mentioned Rose. She didn't care that Slade had a daughter. The only indication that the news had affected Addie was Rose's age. Assurance from Wintergreen convinced Addie that Slade didn't cheat on her. I would have never cheated on Addie.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists, Slade."

"Maybe you don't, but I do."

The incident with Jackal proved that Slade didn't negotiate with terrorists, and look where that got him. No one had really won that day.

"I know what they want," Addie said. "Don't do it."

"I have to. For you."

Not my cup of tea, Slade thought. It's not my kind of contract, but it is a contract. I will complete it. To add insult to injury his new employer had promised to wire him money in addition to Addie's release.

"For me?" Addied echoed. "Slade, I told you to leave me alone."

"I've left you alone for fifteen years. You're the one who tried to hunt me down."

"Only because you were hurting other people!"

So, that was the only reason why she came back: to kill him for hurting Grayson ten years ago. Once the boy was out of harm's way Addie had retreated to the shadows. Where she went was anyone's guess, even to Joey, who joined the Titans shortly thereafter. She only appeared when she was needed. And now...this wasn't the way he wanted to see her again.

"I'm not going to leave you there to die!"

The mother of his children could not be left to die alone in a prison cell. Even putting his personal feelings aside, Slade knew that Joey would never forgive him if he turned back now.

"There's another way, Slade!" Addie shouted. "You can't let them win! You of all people—"

"That is enough, Ms. Kane." Mr. Matar took the phone back.

Addie continued to speak harshly to her guards, spitting out colorful imprecations that almost made him smile. She hadn't changed one bit.

"Your time's up, Deathstroke," Mr. Matar said, taking the phone back. "We have tried to...speed things along. We will continue to do so until you complete your contract."

"There's no need to speed things up. Don't you trust me?"

"My employer doesn't trust you."

"Everything will go according to plan. I've got everything under control."

The more they tried to control things, the chances of everything going wrong would increase. If there was one thing Slade hated the most, it was when everything spun out of his control.

"It better be."

Mr. Matar hung up. Repressing the urge to smash the cell phone against a tree, Slade put it back in his pocket and sighed. Even Waller knew what the real plan was, and Slade hardly trusted him with anything. Slade had told all of his associates (save Wintergreen and the kids) what he planned to do after he discovered he didn't have any other choice.

"Slade, do you have any aspirin?"

Slade swore loudly as he spun around to face Dick. The kid could sneak up on people now. That's because you taught him how to, Wilson. Dick took a startled step back, his eyes widening at Slade's annoyed expression.

"You okay?" he asked warily.

"You stay in the plane with Wayne," Slade snapped.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Great, if Dick found out mere seconds after Mr. Matar lectured him that would be real swell. But what if he did? What would happen if he did tell Dick? He was Batman, after all.

The risk is too great, Slade thought.

Slade didn't fail to notice that Dick took his time turning his back to him. Hiding all of this from one of the world's best detectives was exhausting. He just had to keep everything under control.


	11. Istanbul

**-DG-**

**Istanbul, Turkey**

He squinted as he walked out into the morning sunshine. After a few more uncomfortable hours in the airplane, they had finally landed in Istanbul. He hadn't slept well; he never slept well on airplanes. Dick rubbed his forehead and called out for Damian to follow him.

"Here," Slade said, shoving something into Dick's hand.

"What's this?" Dick asked.

"Aspirin. Found it in my bag this morning."

"Oh. Thanks."

As Slade turned his back Dick put the pill in his pocket. Feigning alcoholism might just help him, however low that tactic might be. Slade wouldn't dream of him stooping so low just to be a sneak.

Still can't tell if he believes me or not, he thought. I gotta test him.

Even after all this time, Dick still had a difficult time reading Slade. Even when they were discussing the mission, Slade seemed to be thinking of something else, perhaps Adeline Kane. Dick knew that Slade had a reputation as an amoral mercenary, though it had taken him a while to figure that out for himself. As he knew from personal experience, any threat to a loved one's life could make a person feel desperate. Dick needed reassurance that Slade wasn't doing something behind his back.

I need to take a look at his things, Dick thought. I should get Damian on that.

If Slade was doing something against him—which Dick suspected—then he might have to rescue Addie Kane without Slade. That was, of course, if Slade hadn't been lying about that as well.

"According to the info Waller sent me, one of Addie's men is hiding out here for the time being," said Slade.

"This is a huge city, and you expect me to find him today?"

"You're the Batman."

"I guess we should get started then."

Slade had printed out more information that Waller had gathered. Each file Slade handed him was a dossier of one of the men who had accompanied Addie on her mission. Eight in total. Six were confirmed dead, their bodies picked up by the Quraci police, and the other two were missing. Out of those two, it was more than likely the American was dead. Nuri Orfalea, Addie's translator who was half-Quraci, might still be alive.

Istanbul was a beautiful city, the rotund mosques stabbing the sweltering air. Dick was aware how much, as Americans, they stood out in the crowd. Only Damian, with his dusky complexion, looked like he belonged there.

"My question is," Dick said, looking around the place, "if Orfalea is alive, then how did he get out of Qurac? Travel in-and-out of the country is restricted. If he didn't have a passport or was injured, then how did he get here? He must have had help."

There were plenty of unanswered questions to ponder. They wandered about the city for a good few hours, trying to gather information. Dick couldn't help but think that this was a waste of time, but he knew that he had to keep searching.

The fact that he was trying to search in a foreign country wasn't much help either. People shot them strange glances as they walked through the slums, a group of men speaking in low voices glaring at them.

"What are they saying?" Dick asked Damian.

"I am not sure. I do not speak this dialect." Damian listened for a moment. "I do believe they're talking about an American, though. A wounded American."

With Damian's help, they talked with the men. Asked a few questions, got some answers. Apparently, there was an American hiding among them, though had taken a few days for people to realize that he was American, since he spoke his mother's native dialect so well. They walked into the hotel where some said the American was.

"Nuri Orfalea?" Dick asked the man at the front desk.

"You American?"

"We are, as is he. We're gonna take him home."

The man looked at them for a moment before nodding. He led them through a series of hallways and knocked upon a door. After a few seconds he opened it.

A man lay in sweaty, tangled sheets on a low bed. A bloody bandage that needed replacing was wound around his forehead and chest. He looked up at them, frightened.

"Nuri," Dick said gently, kneeling beside the bed. "We're here to take you home, okay?"

"Who—who are you?" Orfalea was shaking, whether from illness or fear Dick didn't know.

"We're friends. My name is Dick." Dick spoke in a soothing voice. Orfalea probably didn't trust anyone.

"And who are they?" Orfalea asked, gesturing towards Slade and Damian.

"Addie's husband," Slade said.

"Ex," Dick interjected.

"Doesn't matter."

"I acted as her main translator," Orfalea said. "That's probably the only reason why I'm still alive."

No, it probably isn't. But now was not the time to point that out. Orfalea had information he needed. Then Dick needed to make sure that Orfalea got back to the States alive.

"Do you know who attacked you?" Dick asked.

"Not sure. Definitely wasn't our target." Orfalea glanced to the side, as though afraid to speak. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Like what?" Slade asked. "Be specific."

"We were gathering intel in a building a block away from our target—"

"And who was your target?"

Annoyance crossed Orfalea's face. "That is a matter of national security, Wilson. As I was saying, we were gathering intel when we were attacked. It was clear their target was Addie. They killed everyone else, but I managed to escape with another man. He died a few days ago."

"Thanks for telling us," Dick said. "We just want you home. I'm sure you want to be home too. You were hurt?"

"Got knocked on the head and a nasty knife wound." Orfalea winced as he touched his bandages. "I'm pretty sure the knife wound's infected."

Dick looked at it. They needed antibiotics to slow down the infection. There was a chance that the knife could have been poisoned as well, but a slow-acting one? It didn't make any sense, unless Orfalea had been deliberately left alive as a warning.

"You need to go to a hospital," Dick said. "I'll get the paperwork arranged for you to go home."

"Thank you."

**-SB-**

**A Warehouse**

**Just Outside of Gotham**

By the time Steph arrived Jason's attackers had left. She pushed open the doors and walked in, her footsteps echoing in the gloom.

Blood pooled under Jason as he struggled to breathe. Someone had shot him in the stomach. He could still get up and walk away if he wanted to, but he wouldn't last long. Blood loss would knock him out in mere minutes. She knelt next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jason..."

"Get away from me!" The eyeholes of his mask widened in surprise as he looked up at Steph. His blood-slicked hand fumbled for the gun on his waist.

"You know I don't mean to hurt you," she said.

"What are you doing here?" Jason gasped. "Get out!"

Steph watched him slip and fall to the concrete floor, her heart breaking. He was just like everyone else, human and vulnerable. At one point the Bats had cared for him immensely, and all of them mourned his death. Dick took it especially hard, from what she could remember. She hadn't been around when Jason died, but every so often she overheard Dick blame himself for Jason's death. And now Jason could die again. Bruce had all but disowned Jason in the wake of his resurrection.

"No," she said softly. "I'm not going to leave you, Jason. I only wish I got here sooner."

He fell silent. Thinking about what, Steph could not possibly guess. Funny, how much pain broke down a person... or made them stronger.

"Some hero you are..." Jason began to cough up blood.

"Why didn't they just kill you off?"

"They don't want to kill me..."

She would get answers later. Right now he needed the bullet out of him.

"Come on," Steph said, shrugging his arm over her shoulder. "You big baby."

Jason slumped against her. Boy, was he heavy. More like all muscle and no brains, she thought. She flipped open her communicator. "Batgirl to Oracle, please send someone to pick us up."

"Will do. Be patient."

"You hear that, chum?" Steph asked. "We're gonna get you home."

Jason was strong enough to give her the finger.

**-DW-**

**Istanbul, Turkey**

Grayson spoke with the American Embassy, as well as with Knight and Squire. Although Knight and Squire patrolled in England, Damian knew that they could help Orfalea get to a better hospital. Once Orfalea was well enough, he could travel back to the States.

The four of them found shelter in a hotel that catered to vacationing Americans. Grayson didn't want Orfalea—who had obtained unpleasant internal injuries—to stay at the slum he had been in. Orfalea was currently asleep, courtesy of whatever painkiller Grayson had administered to him.

As the hours passed, Damian wandered the hotel. To his surprise, he found both Grayson and Wilson sitting at the bar. At times their apparent camaraderie baffled Damian, although he grew increasingly more suspicious of Grayson's actions.

"Hey, Damian." Grayson turned on his bar stool. "Do you need anything?"

"I am fine," Damian replied. "I was just wondering where you were."

"You sure? I can—"

"I do not require anything."

Damian still thought about the girl; he found that he could not stop thinking about her. He hadn't even talked to her, known who she was, but his thoughts kept drifting back to what he could have done. He shouldn't have killed that ninja. He should have spent his time doing what Grayson had asked him to do: make sure the civilians were unharmed.

Never before have I allowed a civilian casualty. Why was Grayson so lenient?

How many civilian casualties had occurred under Grayson's run as Robin? Damian suspected that Grayson would never tell him.

A cell phone rang. Sighing, Wilson took it out. "I have to take this. I'll be right back." He picked up his bag and walked away, the cell phone glued to his ear.

"Who keeps calling him?" Damian asked.

Grayson didn't answer him. He stared into space, momentarily distracted. He tipped his head back and took another gulp of alcohol. Without warning, Damian knocked the glass over with the back of his hand.

"What was that for?"

"No drinking on the job, Grayson."

"Whoever said I was drinking?"

"What did you just do? I've been watching you," Damian scolded. "The amount of alcohol you have imbibed is unacceptable."

Before the bartender could clean up the mess, Grayson had a pile of napkins over the spill, hurriedly ordering another drink to appease the annoyed bartender.

"I water it all down," Grayson said in a low voice.

"What? Why?"

"Slade has a need to feel in charge, so I let him. It is not weakness, Damian, it is an act." True to his word, Grayson poured water into his tumbler. "I'm letting him believe that this partnership has forced me to alcoholism."

Pretending to be something he was not...perhaps Grayson knew Wilson better than Damian realized.

"You should not beguile him in this manner. It will become too easy for you to continue drinking." Damian sniffed in disapproval. "Besides, you are still drinking, even if it is watered down."

Grayson stared off into space for a few moments. "Don't worry about me."

Damian huffed and glared at him. "It's your own fault if you end up vomiting throughout the night. It is an unhealthy habit. Desist at once, Grayson, and perhaps I shall not kick you out of our room. "

Unfortunately for him, no one took Damian seriously without an adult around. Outside of his mother, grand-father, and the League of Assassins, only Grayson tolerated him. Associating with a drunken Batman was the last thing he wanted on his resume.

As usual, Grayson ignored his advice. "Look," he said quietly, "I need you to spy on Slade for me."

"Why?"

"Haven't you noticed Slade doesn't leave his bag anywhere?" Grayson's eyes flickered over to Slade. "He doesn't trust us."

"Rightfully so. What do you need me to do?"

"I think he knows who sent the ninjas after us. Maybe he's doing something behind our backs, and maybe he isn't. He doesn't think you're a threat, so you need to look through his bag."

"And what makes you believe that Wilson will separate himself from his luggage?"

"Trust me, I'll handle it. Stick around, I'll make a scene. Will you do it?"

"Of course I will."

Grayson's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "And Damian..."

"What?"

"Be careful. Please."

"I am not idiotic." Damian paused. "But I will be careful. When am I not?" You be careful as well, Grayson.

**-AP-**

**Wayne Tower, Medical Center**

**Gotham City**

After digging out the bullet and stitching up Jason, Alfred sat by his bedside. Jason had passed out from blood loss a while ago. The others had left to rest until Jason woke up. Alfred lay a hand on Jason's, gently rubbing his thumb over Jason's knuckles. The former Boy Wonder lay asleep, looking more peaceful than Alfred remembered.

Out of all the Robins Jason had been the most troublesome, but that didn't mean no one loved him. He had certainly been more rambunctious than Dick, and dangerous, of course, but dangerous in a different way than Dick had been. Jason was part of the family, even if he didn't want to be now.

Even if Jason didn't know it, he had helped Dick come back to his old self after the apprenticeship. For a few years Dick had moved around restlessly, never really wanting to stay in a single place at any point in time. Despite Master Bruce's concern for Dick's safety, Dick had left the house and wandered off on his own many times. It helped stabilize his mood swings, something for which Alfred was grateful. Sometimes Dick would be happy, but the next moment fall into such deep depression that Alfred didn't know what to do. Once Jason came along, Dick found a reason to visit home more often. As someone who didn't know about the apprenticeship at first, Jason proved to be non-judgmental and open to him. They were friends, brothers. Circumstances, of course, had changed everything.

Was it too much to ask for everything to go back to normal?

"Good old Alfred. Always picking up the trash, aren't you?"

He was awake. Jason's hand squirmed, suddenly tugging as he realized that he was strapped down to the bed. "Why am I tied down?"

"I'm sorry, but everyone else believes you a threat."

"Is that why I wasn't invited to the JL's Christmas party?"

"We are willing to compromise with you."

"Bruce is dead, Alfred. Wherever he was sent to... he isn't coming back." Jason stared into space, his jaw clenching. "I don't need his approval. I don't need yours either."

"I only want what is best for you, Master Jason."

Alfred didn't fail to notice Jason flinch at the name. "I'm not part of this family anymore."

"You are to me."

Whatever Jason felt or thought, he must know that Alfred was not lying.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I don't know."

How could anyone explain to the world what had happened to Jason? The press announced Jason's death, attracting even more negativity on the part of Bruce and his wards. First one goes missing for nine months and then one dead? Not a good track record.

Several people flooded into the room. Roy, Lian, Stephanie, and Batwoman. The Wilsons were speaking with Major Wintergreen in another part of the penthouse.

"Aw, how sweet, you all came for me," Jason sneered. "If I wasn't involved, I'm sure you would have let me kick it."

"Our tolerance for your colorful insults are a little low tonight, Jay," Roy said. "It's too dangerous to leave you in the hospital."

Before anyone could speak, Lian shouted, her voice echoing in the medical center. "Look at me!" Lian put Jason's helmet over her head. "I'm the Red Hood!"

"Hey! Don't touch that!" Jason snapped.

"Hey, don't touch that!" Lian echoed. She stuck out her tongue.

"Remind you of someone?" Alfred asked.

"Shut up, Alfred."

"You haven't changed much, Jason."

Roy took off Jason's helmet from his daughter's head and set it on a high shelf.

"Why do you wear a mask under your helmet?" Lian asked. "That seems silly."

"It's practical, not silly."

She stuck out her tongue at Jason, whom Alfred half-expected to stick his tongue out back. She made a horrible farting noise, causing Roy to lift her off the ground. "I'll take her upstairs, Alfred."

"She's got your great humor, Roy," Jason said. "Does she kill like her mom?"

"You're a dorkfaaaaaaaacce," Lian sang as Roy carried her away.

Lian was, of course, smarter than this. Perhaps she was trying to ease the tension in the room by making Jason laugh. He wasn't laughing, though. Once she was out of the room Stephanie repeated her question about who was giving orders to Jason.

"I'm sure you'll learn what this is about soon enough." Jason tested his bonds once again. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"What's at stake?" Stephanie asked. "Why are you taking orders? You don't take orders from anyone."

"Then you don't know me at all, Brown."

Why had Jason changed so much? He was a young man now—twenty, if Alfred's memory served correctly—but would he have been like this if the Joker hadn't killed him? According to Ra's al-Ghul, even a dying man goes temporarily insane in the Lazarus Pits. Alfred couldn't possibly imagine what it would do to someone already dead.

"Tell us who attacked Wayne Tower!" Batwoman snapped.

"Are you gonna go all 'good cop, bad cop' on me now?" Jason smirked. "It won't work. I've already died once. What else could you possibly do to me?"

"Jason," Alfred said, "please... we're only trying to help."

It took a few seconds for Jason's anger to subside.

"It's extortion," Jason said. "It's not just happening to me, but a lot of crooks in Gotham."

"But you know who's doing it, right?" Stephanie asked.

Jason said nothing.

"Jason," Batwoman said, "they shot you. You have every right to rat them out to us."

His jaw clicked. He wasn't going to talk to them, not right now. Alfred wanted to say something, encourage Jason to talk, but the boy was still troubled.

"We'll be back later," Stephanie said. "Have an answer by then."

-SW-

Istanbul, Turkey

The Hotel Bar

"You know that Wayne Tower was attacked, right?" Dick asked.

"What?" Slade, of course, knew all about the attack, but he had to feign ignorance. Damian, who had come back to speak with them about Orfalea's condition, furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I just got a message from Joey. He says that they came back to finish off Wintergreen."

Damn. So it's true.

To Slade's surprise, Dick tipped his head back and finished off his drink rather quickly. Slade hardly drank while on a contract, but he noticed with increasing worry that Dick was consuming an alarming amount.

"Damian, you should go to bed," Dick said. "It's past your bedtime."

"Of course."

With one last glare Damian left the bar, leaving Slade and Dick alone. It was getting late, and even though Slade hardly slept, he knew that he needed to rest.

"Aren't you going to bed, too?" Slade asked.

"No." Dick chuckled softly before finishing his drink. "Can't sleep now."

"I think you've had enough," Slade said quietly, pushing Dick's glass away from him.

"One moment." Dick looked at Slade hard. Just how much did Dick drink while Slade was gone?

"If you're gonna be this way, I'm leaving," Slade said.

"By all means, stay, Slade," Dick said. "Let's catch up some more, shall we?"

To be honest, Slade didn't know how to deal with this. "Dick—"

"God, how did I end up like this?" Dick's voice suddenly rose, his face flushed. "In the Middle East with the man who stole away my life. I thought I got rid of you." He waved to the bartender. "Another round!"

"Hold it." Slade held up a hand. The bartender nodded, glancing at Dick apprehensively. "This is idiotic, even for you."

"Still think I'm a worthy heir now?" He shook with laughter. "I can't wait until this is over."

Slade took a glass of water and splashed it across Dick's face. Dick blinked and wiped his bangs away from his face, slow as a sloth.

"Your behavior is unbecoming," Slade said. "It's embarrassing."

Dick took a napkin and began to dab his face dry, still not looking at Slade. Slade eyed him closely. Dick Grayson wasn't one to lose hope, was he? What was different this time around?

"Sirs—" the bartender began.

"Embarrassing to you?" Dick hiccupped. "Always about you, isn't it? Punch me again, why don't you?"

Fighting was childish. Slade scrambled for words. He couldn't let Dick and Damian walk away, not now, not while he was so close to his goal.

"You are drunk," Slade snapped quietly.

"No, I'm not."

Slade threw a bill at the bartender. "Keep the change."

People turned their heads curiously as Slade grabbed Dick's arm and dragged him away. Dick struggled weakly to free himself, trying to twist away.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you back to your room."

If it weren't for Dick's intoxicated state, Slade wasn't sure if he could have manhandled him like this. He grabbed Dick's other arm, preventing him from trying to fight back.

"Let me go—"

"I think you've embarrassed yourself enough. I'm doing you a favor."

Hell, he even smelled like a bar. Dick tried to headbutt Slade's chin, but Slade merely moved his head to the side. Pathetic. He unlocked the door and shoved Dick inside. Somehow Dick tripped over his feet and ended up sprawled on the floor, looking more miserable and sick than Slade had seen him in a long while.

How sad. How very, very sad.

"You..." Dick stood up on wobbly legs, jabbing a finger at Slade. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Even if I wasn't your 'arch-nemesis,' I'd still kick you out. I'm sure Wayne wouldn't want you like this."

"Nope, not Bruce's fault." How odd. Dick still spoke as if Bruce Wayne were still alive. "And it's not about him. It's about you."

"Are you blaming me for this?"

"You... you..." Dick stumbled, catching himself against the side of a desk. "Man, I was so messed up after I left. Took me years to learn how to make friends again, to get over nine months of your crap. At least Will was sincere when he said he felt sorry for me. You've never repented, never did anything with the second chance I gave you. You're not sorry at all, Slade."

As Dick rambled, Slade stood there like stone, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no point lecturing him for insolence. Slade had let go of Dick long ago, admitted that he had learned enough to leave the apprenticeship. He was not a child. Besides, it was the alcohol talking.

"No," Slade replied. "No, I'm not."

Slade slapped him hard across the face. There was no reason to apologize for it. Dick knew him well enough to predict that, even in his intoxicated state.

"Okay... okay, I guess I deserved that." He blinked, suddenly aware of what had happened. "Well, this is embarrassing."

If I didn't need you, I'd send you right back to the States.

"I'm not your baby-sitter," Slade said. "If you try to get this drunk again before the mission is over I'll kick the alcohol out of your system."

Honestly, Dick knew better than this. Slade stepped backwards into the hallway.

"Sleep it off," Slade said. "Say hello to the porcelain god for me."

"Wait, what?"

Slade shut the door. As he walked back to his own room he stopped, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

Damian was not there.

With a jolt, Slade realized that his bag was not with him. Surely, Damian would have had something to say about Dick's drunkenness. Hands flexing, eye narrowing, Slade slowly opened the door to his hotel room.

Little Wayne knelt on the floor, Slade's open bag in his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He twisted Damian's arm and jerked it behind him. The boy writhed, but didn't shout for help. Oh no, he was too proud for that.

"Unhand me!" Damian growled.

"I don't think so. Move and I'll rip your arm out of its socket."

Almost immediately, Damian stopped moving, although Slade could tell he wanted to fight back. The boy knew when to back down from a fight. Smart kid.

"So, you do listen? That's a first."

Slade let go of Damian and shoved him to the floor. Damian sprang to his feet and lunged at Slade, who caught Damian around the middle and tossed him over his shoulder. Despite the kid's bravado, Slade heard Damian wince as he landed hard on his back.

"Doesn't Dick teach you manners?"

"You're one to talk." Damian rubbed his hurt arm, scowling up at Slade. "Where is he?"

"Sleeping his headache off like a college freshman. What were you doing?"

"Investigating."

Little smart-aleck. "Why?"

"So I can be certain you are not lying to me, Wilson!"

Even the little one suspected he was up to something. Very well. Time to change tactics.

He punched Damian in the gut, not so hard that he couldn't breathe, but hard enough to hurt him. "I owe you for that little death threat on the plane. I will not tolerate that."

For the first time since Slade had met the boy, he saw real fear on his face. It was momentary, but it was there. Good.

Anger bubbled in Slade's chest. Dick had tricked him... again. That was a cheap trick, Dick, Slade thought. It won't work again, I guarantee it."

"Did Dick put you up to this?"

"TT. Why would he? I am the one who does not trust you."

Little liar. Dick did put him up to this, Slade was sure of it. Fine. Let him lie. As Damian tried to move away Slade grabbed his chin, his fingers digging into Damian's cheeks.

"My threats are very real," Slade whispered. "You threaten me again, young man, and I will hurt you."

"You have a talent for bullying boys, Wilson."

Slade wanted to smack him again. There was no need to bruise his face. The boy wouldn't run to Grayson for help, but there was no need for Grayson to be suspicious.

"My tolerance for you is growing low, Damian."

"Come now, Wilson: don't try to treat me like an adolescent Grayson. I am not afraid of what you can do to me." A sly smirk crossed Damian's lips. "There's nothing you can do to me to make me scared of you."

Slade let go of Damian's chin and grabbed the boy's neck. To give the boy credit, he didn't plead for mercy or try to fight back. He simply took it, watching Slade with narrowed, calculating eyes. "Maybe not for you, but Dick certainly. He may have defeated me with the help of his friends, but I am more than capable of killing him if I wish. Remember that you are still a child, and that there is nothing you can do to stop it."

Damian's brows knitted as he glanced to the side, avoiding Slade's gaze. So, the boy had grown attached to Dick. A pity. Slade let him go. "If I catch you looking through my things again, you'll get worse than a bruise. Capeesh?"

Damian mumbled something.

"I asked you a question, young man. Answer me."

"Yes, I understand."

For a moment Slade considered the child. What had possessed Dick to mentor him? Yet here and now all Slade saw was a scared little boy. Even when you threatened grown men like Dick Grayson, or hardened child assassins like Damian Wayne, they always acted like scared little boys, in the end.

"Good. Now get out."


	12. Distant

**-DG-**

**Hotel Room**

**Istanbul, Turkey**

He woke up with an excruciating headache.

A thin layer of sweat made his shirt stick to his chest, the sheets to his legs. A strip of warm sunlight peeked through the curtains and fell across his face. He was desperately thirsty; a mental reminder that he hadn't drunk enough water the night before. He just felt plain awful, but why?

"It is about time you woke up," Damian said, walking to the edge of the bed. "Take a shower, I can't stand your smell."

"Good morning to you too." Dick pushed himself to his elbows. Why did he feel as though someone had hit him hard over the head? He could hold his alcohol well enough. He never meant to drink enough to pass out. That was dangerous. He was certain that he hadn't gotten drunk last night.

Damian tossed him a water bottle, which Dick gratefully twisted open. As he chugged it, Damian tutted and rolled his eyes.

"Never do that again," Damian said."That was idiotic. The last thing I need is to turn you in to the hospital for alcohol poisoning."

"It needed a bit of truth," Dick replied irritably. "That's the best way to lie. Did you find out anything?"

"No. There was nothing suspicious in his bag."

"You're sure? You checked everywhere?"

"Of course I checked everywhere!" Damian snapped. "Who do you think I am, Grayson?"

Well, someone woke up in a bad mood. Dick held up his hands. "Sorry. I'm sure you did the best you could."

" _TT._ I do nothing less."

If there was nothing suspicious in Slade's luggage, then what to do next?

"I'm missing something," Dick muttered. "But what?"

He closed his eyes and tried to think. There had to be a reason why Slade wanted Dick's help. Killing off Batman was one option he had thrown at Slade, who denied it, but who knew when Slade was lying? But if he wasn't lying and Batman wasn't the target, then what could Slade be up to?

"Perhaps you are too paranoid," Damian said.

Dick threw the sheets off and stood up. A shower, a shave, and a cup of coffee would make him feel better, he was sure of it. Damian sat down on the other end of the bed and placed his hands on his knees. "Will you not speak with me about him?"

"About Slade? I already told you what happened."

"You have not recovered. Your emotional responses are becoming a liability. How can you properly fill my father's place when you allow your emotions to rule your head?"

Did Damian think him weak? Or was he genuinely curious? Dick didn't know. He had to be careful about what he told Damian. So far, Damian saw everything as a weakness.

"What do you want to know?" Dick asked carefully.

"Aside from the obvious—why you are working with Wilson—I suppose I would like to know what you neglected to tell my father."

 _About 95% of everything that happened I will take to my grave,_ Dick thought. The only reason why he hadn't told Bruce everything was because Dick was afraid of making him upset. Nothing that Dick said would be anything new, though: the mind-games, the beatings, the lectures... the threats. All in a day's work for a big-time villain. And, of course, Dick eventually realized that coming to peace with what had happened was entirely up to him. Perhaps one day he would feel confident enough to tell someone.

"You know your dad and I had problems. I had my reasons for not telling him everything."

"You claim that you are being calm about this, but it is clear that you are _not_ calm."

Annoyance flashed through Dick's face. If he said that Damian didn't bug him every once in a while, then he would be lying. The kid was exasperating. Despite Damian's precociousness, he asked with childlike curiosity.

"Bruce didn't know about Wintergreen, for one. Roy did... I think I told him. Just in passing, though." He frowned. "Trust me, I'm a lot calmer than I used to be."

Or maybe Damian was right, and Dick wasn't calm.

"You are still acting irrationally."

"He nearly drove me _mad_ , Damian."

"What are trying to prove? That you are not afraid?"

"Not everything has a simple answer, Damian. Fear is natural and nothing to be ashamed of... even if it feels that way at first."

There was a time to feel afraid and a time to suppress that fear. Although Dick knew that he had to express it sometime, Damian was not the kind of person he should spill out his feelings to. He was just like his father in many respects, and emotional distance was one of them.

"The Batman does not feel fear."

 _Sometimes life just sucks._ His life certainly felt that way. One bad thing happened right after the other. Dick should have retired years ago. Bought an island somewhere to raise Mar'i in peace, with the occasional visit from Momma Star.

"Your dad isn't perfect. That's the first thing you should know about him."

"TT. And you are?"

"No, that's not what—I mean—"

 _What kind of role model are you, Grayson?_ Dick thought. _You told Damian he has to work through his problems, but you seem to drink through yours._

"I'm not saying that I'm infallible, Damian."

"What frightens you about him?" Damian asked. "Or have you lived so long in fear that you've forgotten?"

"It is difficult to forget," Dick said. "He messed with my head, changed the way I approached everything in life. It becomes habit. That is what's truly frightening: he changed me, and in ways I didn't want to be changed."

Dick's head twinged in pain. To be honest, he did feel as though he was about to vomit. Great. Just what he needed: a hangover. He must have miscalculated his hard liquor last night. Without knocking, Slade walked in.

"I locked that door—" Damian began.

"Locks don't work on me, Wayne." Slade smirked. "How's your hangover, Dick?"

"Spectacular."

"Good. We're leaving after we talk to Orfalea again."

"And going where? Qurac?"

"Yeah. I already arranged for Anton to take Orfalea to London."

Dick had been sober enough to know what he was doing, but he knew that he had said some things he already regretted. He had shouted things to Slade he hadn't wanted to say out loud. But somehow he felt better because of it.

"See you in ten minutes." Slade smirked. "Take your five o'clock shadow with you, if you must."

And with that Slade shut the door. Dick opened another bottle of water and began to chug it.

"Why do you allow him to treat you like this?" Damian asked.

"It's pretty mellow compared to what he used to do." Dick wiped water away from his chin. "I know it still doesn't make it right, but he's gotten better. At least that second chance didn't go completely to waste."

Despite everything that had happened in the past ten years, Dick still believed that Slade was capable of change. He had seen it—little as it was. While Dick was on this mission primarily for Joey and Rose and Wintergreen's benefits, he knew very well that if Addie died all hell would break lose. Slade's family was the only thing tying him down to rationality, and no matter how much Dick disliked doing this, he knew that there was always the chance that he couldn't defeat Slade again. If the death of Adeline Kane or Wintergreen or his kids triggered Slade's full wrath, Dick didn't know what he would do. Deep down, part of him believed that he had defeated Slade by pure luck rather than skill.

Damian had a lot to learn before he could understand why Dick had made the decision to allow Slade to walk free. With Bruce gone, it was up to Dick to make sure that Damian understood that not every decision had to be absolute. It sometimes wasn't even a matter of being morally better than someone: it was a matter of being yourself.

"Let's just go," Dick said to Damian.

**-JT-**

**Medical Center, Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

Everything hurt when he woke up the next morning. Hell, he hadn't felt this bad since the Joker did his last number on him. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. Nothing beat jumping out of the Lazarus Pit with only the al-Ghuls for company.

"I see that you are awake," Alfred said.

Heh. Good old Alfred.

"I need to change those bandages."

Jason sucked in air as Alfred unwrapped them carefully. Ouch. Jason noted, with distaste, that his hands were still tied to the hospital bed. "So when can I leave?"

"I do not know. That decision is not up to me."

"Are you gonna call Dick?"

"Certainly. He has the right to know that you are being held in my care."

Jason allowed his head to fall back on the pillow. Great, just great. Maybe he would have a better time trying to convince that old fart Wintergreen to let him go.

 _But what would Dick do?_ Jason thought. _If he knows that I'm connected to this, will he let me go?_

His early memories at Wayne Manor were faint, like bright colors washed away by the sun and water. There was no reason for him to be angry at Dick, aside from the fact that Dick refused to fight alongside him. Whatever had happened to them being "bros"?

 _No,_ Jason thought glumly. _Dick won't forgive me for this._

Batgirl walked in, her cowl down. Sometimes she baffled him. Wasn't she Drake's squeeze? Or had they broken up? She seemed too feisty for little Timmy-Tim. Nice rack, though; they almost made up for being captured.

"Eyes up here, Jayjay."

Jason smiled as his gaze rose to her face. "Just admiring the new suit."

"Sure you are."

After glancing around the room, she leaned over and untied his hands, though Jason didn't fail to notice that she looked nervous.

"Aren't you afraid I'm gonna bail?"

"You're too hurt to move. Besides, you'll be down within minutes if you try to escape. We've got things covered here."

"Are you gonna try to flirt an answer out of me?"

"If I have to, yes." Her eyes narrowed. "If you're in trouble, why don't you just tell us?"

"Pride, Steph. And since I'm being extorted, I'm not really motivated to talk about it right now."

While Jason was frustrated with all of this, he knew that he would be fine once the shenanigans were over. Waiting out the storm wasn't something he was used to doing, but that had been the plan all along. It still was the plan now. Waste enough time and everything would be back to normal. Well, almost normal.

"Is Slade up to something?" Brown asked.

He stared at her steadily. "I'm not sure I could answer that even if I wanted to."

Honestly, Jason hadn't the slightest idea what Slade was up to. No one told him anything. Maybe if the Bats gave him some info he could help. If he wanted to.

"But you knew that he talked to Dick. You know that they're working together."

"Sweetheart, I've known Dick longer than you. You might not believe it, but I know his shit pretty well. Real messed up, mebbe as messed-up as me. It doesn't surprise me one bit that he's working with Slade now."

"And why is that?"

"Sure, they know how to piss each other off, but there's no denying the fact that Dick was trained to work with Slade. Dick didn't talk much about Wintergreen, but he said enough to suggest that Wintergreen kept him from hopping on board the crazy train. If Dick says he's doing it because of Wintergreen, then he's probably telling the truth."

Of course, Dick hadn't told him everything. From what Jason understood, Dick didn't talk about his feelings much whenever he really needed. Despite their former "bro" status Dick had still been emotionally distant.

"You're a real Sherlock Holmes," Brown said.

"Aw thanks, you're real sweet."

"Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know. But seriously, we need information bad."

"For the right price—and protection—I will tell you what you want." As much as Jason wanted to believe that he could protect himself, he wasn't stupid enough to try. With these people, the slightest mishap could mean death. "Like I said last night: I'm only a pawn."

"What do they want?"

"I'm not sure. I already did what they asked me to do. Now they want me to be a distraction. I've been doing a lousy job at it. How come you haven't noticed?"

"You didn't have to do it in the first place. You should have asked for help."

"Well, I guess we former Robins just don't do that."

This time around Jason wasn't trying to save anyone. If he messed up and died, then it was his own fault. He couldn't rely on anyone else to take care of him. Bruce never did. Bruce had failed to save him.

"I did," Brown said.

"And look where that got you—"

"I came back from the dead too," Brown snapped, "and I'm happy with my life. Be happy with yours, Jason."

Who was she to judge? Who was she to say that he wasn't happy with life? Brown didn't know him at all.

"You have no reason not to help us."

"What's in it for me?"

"Well," Steph said, standing up. "Don't you want some payback?" She held out her hand.

**-DW-**

**Hotel**

**Istanbul, Turkey**

Orfalea could have been in better condition, if he had had the correct medical treatment following the ambush. Damian didn't fail to notice that Orfalea stared at him, though whether suspicious of him or not, Damian couldn't tell. Damian had read Orfalea's dossier the night before, having stolen it from Grayson's bag as he lay passed out in his hotel bed. An American by assimilation, Orfalea had indeed acted as Kane's Quraci translator. His parents had left the country to escape President Marlo's inhumane purges. A remarkable story that Damian cared nothing for. Grayson stood at the desk, rifling through the contents of his medkit.

"How are you feeling?" Grayson asked Orfalea.

"Better than yesterday," Orfalea replied, "thanks to you."

"I can't do anything about that infection," Grayson said. "We're first going to get you to a hospital."

As Grayson continued to make small talk, Damian settled in an armchair much too big for him. He had no intention of aiding Grayson, since he had so little medical training, and he would prefer not to interact with the wounded man. That infection stank.

"How did you find me here?" Orfalea asked. "You're not connected to the CIA..."

Ah. Grayson had not revealed his identity as the Batman, and just as well: it would not do to be Batman for something as trivial as this.

"I know we don't seem qualified, but we are. I used to be a police officer."

"You seem kind of young."

"I've been through a lot. And I've been trained by the best."

The longer Damian studied Grayson the more he began to realize how much the things left unsaid were full of meaning. The awkward pauses, the hesitant words... the aloofness... everything hinted at a dark past. Damian could not help but wonder if he himself did the same thing.

"You probably can't get out of this country legally," Grayson said. "The American Embassy in London will help you get your paperwork sorted out. Of course, we are getting you out of Turkey illegally, but I'm sure you don't mind."

"What are you going to do?" Orfalea asked.

"We're going to get Ms. Kane out of there," Grayson replied.

"And how do you expect to do that? The nine of us couldn't stop them, so what makes you so sure that the two of you can?"

"Three," Damian interrupted.

"Two and a half, then."

Before Damian could blow up, Grayson quickly interrupted him. "Trust me, Nuri, we're more than capable of getting her out of there."

This was a waste of time. Unless Orfalea had something substantial to say, then there was no reason to continue speaking with him. Send him on his way to London for all Damian cared. But staying here was better than spending time with Wilson.

"I'm not so sure she'll let Wilson come to rescue her," Orfalea said in a quiet voice. "Most of us were told not to ask questions about her ex. He has gotten in trouble with the US government before, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh believe me, I know."

Orfalea shot Grayson a perplexed look, though he did not question the comment. Someone knocked on the door. Before anyone could say anything Anton burst into the room, with Wilson following closely behind him. The pilot had ditched his Soviet coat, since the sweltering heat made it unnecessary. The joy on his face was irritatingly infectious.

"This city is spectacular!" Anton walked towards them with an armful of eclectic merchandise. "The Grand Bazaar was open today. So many things half-off!"

"Who... who is this?" Orfalea asked.

"Your ride home," Grayson replied. "This is Anton, the guy who got us here. Talk to Slade if you... uh... have any questions about him."

"I'm going home with him?" Orfalea asked, rising an eyebrow.

"Sorry there is no portkey," Anton replied, dumping his things in another armchair. "Muggle transportation will have to do."

"What?"

"Just ignore him," Wilson said to Orfalea. "You don't need to listen to him blather."

"Do not worry, I will bring you safely to London," Anton said. "Of course, as long as Slade pays me..."

"You know I will," Wilson replied irritably. "Let's go. We've wasted too much time here already."

Although everyone else seemed more eager to rest, no one spoke against Wilson. Damian certainly wouldn't. In fifteen minutes they arrived at the runway, where Anton had landed the plane the day before. Wilson did nothing to help Orfalea, who was still weak, limp towards the plane. Damian, of course, had no time to spare for such a lowly task. Better to leave it for the circus boy.

"Thank you for the help, but I'm perfectly capable of walking up myself," Orfalea said to Grayson.

Although Damian believed that Orfalea was around his mid to late thirties, he looked much older with his injuries. His shoulders were hunched and he needed a cane to walk. At least he tried to fight back. Grayson nodded and stepped away.

"Please," Orfalea said, leaning on the railing, "get Addie out of there. I know she has kids. She doesn't deserve to die."

"We'll do our best," Grayson said. "We have no other choice."

Orfalea nodded and disappeared into Anton's battered aeroplane. They watched it take-off, the sudden blasts of air throwing dirt into Damian's face.

"You handled that rather nicely, Dick," Wilson said. "Bruce Wayne wouldn't have been so smooth."

"I'm not him," Grayson said quietly.

There were topics the two of them simply did not discuss, at least not in front of Damian. If he was going to understand their complicated relationship, then he needed to hear what they discussed in private.

"Come on, we have work to do," Wilson said.

After checking out of the hotel, they moved to another part of the city, to a restaurant near to the ocean. If they were attempting to stay undercover, then they were not doing a good job. But eating this was better than eating Grayson's cooking. God, that man did not know how to cook.

Damian noted that Grayson did not order any sort of alcoholic beverage.

"Addie was working on a surveillance project," Slade said. "Tracking a known terrorist with the help of her associates. She was stationed in the capital, just a few miles from the suspect. Even though she was heading this operation she didn't go out and gather intel herself. It was too dangerous. Whenever she didn't want to be recognized she would wear a burqa."

"Who was she tracking?" Damian asked.

"A former politician," Slade replied. "Not sure who, but he definitely worked with President Marlo. I think Addie's target has some connection with Qurac's sister-state Bialya. If he suspected that he was being followed here then he didn't show it."

"Who?" Grayson asked.

"Several of his subordinates are still hiding out in Qurac," Wilson replied. "I'll bet you anything that she was after Marlo's VP."

"Didn't our troops capture President Marlo?" Grayson asked.

Even for someone well-versed in the complicated web that was Middle Eastern politics, Damian found himself bored. There was no doubt that Wilson and Grayson were intelligent, to an extent of course, but they could never fully understand what was happening without understanding the culture like Damian did.

"Oh yeah, we got him a couple years ago," Wilson replied. "He was put to trial and everything. Of course, the job isn't really done until all of his subordinates are dead."

Damian remembered his mother and grand-father discussing the news of Marlo's capture. Their reaction was a mixed one. While Marlo's crimes were despicable and did nothing to strengthen humanity, he was easily persuaded with money. Years of hesitant diplomacy and bribes gone in a single moment.

"President Harjavti is more lenient towards Americans, but not by much," Damian said.

"I know," Grayson said. He seemed wary of going into Qurac, and Damian could not blame him. The country was a war waiting to happen. "Our best bet would be to go to Abu Dhabi. Even if her target isn't there anymore, I'm sure there are documents in the capital that would be valuable to our search. Learning about her target may help us find her, even if her kidnappers were not connected to her target. They could still be connected, even if we don't know it."

Abu Dhabi... the capital of Qurac. Damian hadn't been there for quite some time, not since he was a small child. Grand-father had had business with President Marlo, if he remembered correctly. His mother was of the opinion that the whole country was worth avoiding. It was a power keg just waiting to explode. Assassinate the right person and war would be declared in the Middle East. There were much more civilized countries to inhabit.

"Your American passports may do you more harm than good," Damian said. "You will both need to be very careful."

Damian didn't care if Wilson got himself into trouble. He deserved it if he did.

Though Damian didn't often profess his anxiety, he was uneasy about going to Qurac now that he was so close. No one in their right mind would want to go there, Damian included. But after so many years, he was finally going back. Damian dismissed the thought that being so close to home would stir up unpleasant thoughts. Everything would run smoothly. It just would.

**-RH-**

**Harper Residence**

**Star City**

Although he was needed in Gotham, Roy knew that he was needed in Star City as well. After an exhausting few days, Roy and Lian had finally made their way back home.

"Go to bed," Roy said, taking her bow and quiver from here. "I'll put these away."

Yawning widely, Lian did not protest as she walked towards her bedroom. He followed her to make sure she actually went to bed. Sometimes she tried to stay up with him. But she was so tired she didn't even bother to change into her pjs. After she flopped onto her bed Roy pulled the blankets over her.

"You look sad, Daddy," she mumbled, looking at him through bleary eyes.

"I'm not sad, babycakes."

"You're lying."

How could he explain any of this to her? Damian was too precocious for his own good. He shouldn't understand the hard facts of life. There were so many emotions flying through Roy that he couldn't even begin to explain it to himself. He was worried about Dick, about Lian, about the whole situation in Gotham.

"Good night, Lian. I'll wake you up for school."

Roy turned off her lamp and shut the door quietly. He sniffed the air and spun around, his fists raised.

"Get out, Jade."

"I see you still haven't moved out of this place." Cheshire emerged from the shadows. Roy's breath caught in his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can't I see my own daughter?" She pulled up her mask.

"We're a little preoccupied right now."

"With Todd's little show in Gotham? Of course you would be."

Two swords appeared in her hand. Roy backed away just in time to dodge them, thinking desperately that he needed his bow.

 _I don't want Lian to see us like this,_ Roy thought. _I need to take this fight outside._

Cold steel pressed up against his neck as he backed into the kitchen table, both of her blades against his neck.

"You're getting sloppy, Roy."

"You disgust me."

"Why? Because I'm an assassin?"

"Well, yeah." Ignoring the swords at his neck, he leaned back and kicked her in the stomach. She dropped her weapons and staggered backwards. He shoved her to the floor and rolled on top of her, trying to pin her down. "Are you even trying to kill me? You're not here to see me or Lian. So what do you want?"

She licked blood away from her lips and smiled. Despite himself, Roy shivered. Half the time he couldn't tell if she was flirting or just messing with his head.

"I have a message for you: stay away from Gotham."

"Slade sent you?" Roy asked.

They hadn't heard from Dick in a while, not since he had arrived in Istanbul. Was it possible that Slade double-crossed him? Was he sending out people to hurt Dick's friends again?

"No, someone else. And they paid a nice price for my silence, so you're out of luck."

"I'm not going to protect you anymore," Roy snarled, leaning in close to her face. "Not after what you did."

Lights popped in front of his eyes as she headbutted him, forcing him to let go of her. Somehow she wrestled him to the ground and wrapped her legs around his right arm, her hands tight around his wrist. Roy stopped moving, his eyes fixed on her.

"I'm not going to kill you, just get you out of commission." She smiled. "Perhaps I should start with those magic fingers of yours."

Broken fingers would be enough to get him grounded for a few weeks. A broken arm a bit longer. Roy hissed in pain as she began to bend his middle finger back.

"If you scream, Roy, you'll wake her up."

"She's your daughter too!" His eyes narrowed. "And I won't scream."

Jade cried out as something ripped through her sleeve. Turning his head, Roy saw Lian standing in the doorway, another arrow ready to fire.

"Mom, get away from Dad."

Jade wouldn't harm a child, least of all her own daughter, would she? As Jade began to bend Roy's arm, Lian sent another arrow whizzing past Jade's head.

"Nice shot," Jade said, amused.

A low chuckle escaped Jade, her shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter. After a moment she shrugged and turned towards the open window. "I'll stop by for her fifth-grade graduation." She leapt out, laughing all the while.

Roy practically flew towards the window, his hand throbbing in pain.

"As if you will, Jade!" Roy shouted, leaning out of the kitchen window. _"I expect a child-support check by the end of the week!"_

There was no use yelling anymore. He slammed the window shut and locked it, not that locking it would do any good.

"Go back to bed, Lian."

"Why was she here?"

"I'm not sure."

His communicator buzzed. Roy flipped it open and heard Barbara's voice. "Oracle to Arsenal: are you all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Warn everyone else that someone may be trying to stop them."

First the attack on Wayne Tower and now this. Someone wanted the capes out of this badly, and that someone was not Slade Wilson. Somehow Roy got the sense that Slade wasn't coordinating these attacks. If Jason had not said anything about a multitude of crooks being extorted, then there would be good reason to suspect Slade, but there was something bigger afoot.

Whatever the reason, Roy was going to get to the bottom of it.


	13. Abu Dhabi

**-AK-**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

Addie allowed Suleiman Matar to pour her a glass of wine.

Cool, collected and calm. That was the only way to deal with these kind of people. Addie sat in an armchair across from Suleiman Matar, who had arrived just a few minutes ago. She found herself wondering what she could use as a weapon.

"Your ex-husband has finally arrived in Qurac," said Mr. Matar. "It would be pointless to talk him out of it. You know that."

"If you know him so well, then you don't need my help." Hesitantly, she sipped her wine. Hmm. Good quality. He had taste. Mr. Matar showed no signs of uneasiness. It was as if he expected her to speak this way.

"Your help is invaluable, Ms. Kane," he replied. "Do not undervalue your expertise. My employer intends to take full advantage of it."

"Oh, does he now? And what of Slade?"

"It appears as though he brought some friends." Mr. Matar smiled. "Who would have guessed that he brought Batman and Robin along?"

Part of Addie wanted to say the cliched thing, that (if not Slade) Batman and Robin would stop them. They had in the past and they could sure do it again. But why bother? These people were tacticians. Everything she did, every word she said had to be calculated.

 _I'll get out of here_ , Addie thought.

Slade told her to trust him, but how could she? Horrible flashbacks of the night Joey was hurt played in her mind. Slade wasn't exactly trustworthy, at least not after he had become Deathstroke.

"Certainly not me," she said, "given his history with Grayson."

There was no point denying that they knew Batman's secret identity. It was obvious to anyone who paid attention to the news.

"It is odd, isn't it?" Mr. Matar set his glass down. "An unlikely partnership. Still, they had their reasons. I personally find it fascinating that after all these years, Wilson will still drop everything for you."

"Fascinating to you, perhaps, but unsurprising to me."

She looked out of the window to watch the sunset. Despite the fact that these people had killed all of her men, they treated her with as much respect as they were capable of. Since her capture they moved her to a nicer room, but a gilded cage was still a cage. Twice she tried to escape, but each time proved futile. Only when she agreed to give them some information about Slade did they begin to treat her like a human being.

Sensing her unwillingness to speak, Mr. Matar moved onto a different topic.

"Tonight you'll have the pleasure of meeting your host," said Mr. Matar. "He thinks rather highly of you, since you were the woman who trained Deathstroke."

"It's nothing to be proud of."

"Perhaps. But he is impressed nevertheless."

She was finally going to meet him, and to be honest she was scared. Once the villain got what he wanted, she would mean nothing to him. So why was he bothering to talk to his captive?

"You will not be alone with him, of course," said Mr. Matar. "You are merely the guest of honor."

"That is fine by me. I'd rather not be alone with him."

She knew everything, and being forced to keep quiet frustrated her. There was no way for her to call Dick Grayson to convince him to leave the Arabian peninsula at once. Slade could get himself killed for all she cared. Let someone else do the dirty work. But it was crucial that Grayson and his sidekick get out of here.

"Be sure to mind your manners, Ms. Kane," Mr. Matar said dryly. "He will not tolerate an escape attempt. It will spoil his appetite."

"And we both know how much of a tragedy that will be."

Mr. Matar's cell phone went off. He checked it with a sigh. "Wilson took longer than anticipated to get here. Do you believe he's trying to delay the inevitable? Trying to buy time to come up with a plan?"

"Do you honestly expect me to answer your questions? You already know the answer."

"You are full of surprises, Ms. Kane." Mr. Matar smiled and stood up. She wondered how long it would take her to bring him down. How well-trained was he? "Dinner will be served in two hours. In the meantime, why don't we welcome Deathstroke and his companions to our country?"

**-AP-**

**Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

After a day or two, everything seemed to quiet down. Rose and Joseph decided to stay in Wayne Tower to keep an eye on Jason, who had been released and allowed to wander the penthouse. Stephanie kept arguing that Jason could be manipulated to their advantage. Rose and Joseph would stay to make sure Jason didn't run away.

Despite the penthouse being full of people, Alfred felt a bit lonely. Without Master Dick here, everything seemed empty. It didn't help that he was off on a mission everyone disapproved of. Alfred made his way down to the basement, which served as Master Dick's Bat Cave. Stephanie waited for him there, her cowl down.

"Any news from Dick?" she asked.

"I'm tracking Master Dick's coordinates right now." Alfred walked up to the computer and pushed a button. The screen zoomed in on Abu Dhabi. "Looks like he made it to Qurac."

Not that _that_ made Alfred happy. He, like everyone else, had been against this mission from the very beginning. But there was nothing else to do now except wait it out. The webcam bleeped to life.

An empty hotel room came into view. It took Master Dick a few seconds to realize that his webcam was on.

"Hi, Alfred," Dick said, adjusting the webcam so that it pointed to his face. "Sorry I haven't called. We just flew into Qurac. Slade had one last contact."

"How is the mission going?" Alfred asked.

"Could be worse. Had a little mishap in Croatia, but we got here okay."

Hm. Alfred could tell that Master Dick was not telling the full story, but perhaps there was not time for it. Once Master Dick returned to Gotham, he would make him tell.

"A mishap?"

"Oh, well, an attack on the train we were in. It's no big deal. I've seen worse."

It took much self-control not to comment. What with the Atlantic Ocean between them, there was nothing much Alfred could say or do to make Master Dick change his attitude.

"What's been going on in Gotham?" Master Dick asked.

"We have Jason Todd in custody."

"Jason? Why do you have Jason in custody?"

"I was patrolling Gotham," Stephanie said, "just as you told me to do. He mentioned that he had something to do with the attack on Wayne Tower, so Batwoman and I took him in."

"Has he said anything more about it?"

"No. He claims that he's being extorted."

"Do you believe him?" Dick asked.

"Yeah, I guess. There's no reason for me not to."

Master Dick became silent.

"Master Dick, are you all right?" Alfred asked.

"Me? I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Alfred had the uncanny ability to know when people lied to him. On several occasions Master Dick had felt the need to lie, and unless someone's life was in danger, Alfred let it slide. There was no indication that Master Dick's life was in immediate danger... although Alfred knew that it soon would be.

"Look, we had some rough spots, but we're very close to finding Adeline Kane," said Master Dick. "I can't leave now."

"I understand. What do you want me to do with Jason?"

"I'm... not sure. Don't let him leave, but don't let anyone hurt him. Try to get him to talk about who's blackmailing. If this has anything to do with what's happening over here, then I need all the info I can get."

"Good luck."

A sigh escaped from Alfred as Master Dick logged off.

"Alfred, he will never tell you everything," Stephanie said. "He's like Bruce."

"In some respects, yes, but something strange is happening. I do not know what, but he's nervous."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

**-SW-**

**Downtown Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

He did not mention to Dick that he knew about the fake alcoholism. It was still obvious that Dick drank more than he should, but nearly everything the night before had been an act. Slade didn't know how to feel about that.

 _It worked for a while_ , he thought. _Did I honestly expect it? Is that why I wasn't surprised?_

Driving Dick to alcoholism had never been Slade's intention. While he had to admit that he had allowed the kid access to alcohol every once in a while, it was more out of pity than anything else.

Abu Dhabi was hot, dusty, and industrial. The very air tasted like dust. Slade hated it. He walked alongside Dick and Little Wayne, every step kicking up dust.

"You've been here before, Wayne?" Slade asked.

"Of course. There is a Lazarus Pit nearby. That is the primary reason why my mother brought me here: to watch Grand-Father be revived."

Ah, Ra's and his Lazarus Pits. Immortality was something that Slade had no interest in. Eventually Ra's would go insane from using the pits too much. Or so Slade hoped.

Fortunately, or perhaps not so fortunately, Slade had one last contact who was willing to take them to Qurac. The ensuing plane ride was quiet and uneventful. The one thing that had bothered him was the fact that everything between them all was so strained. No one wanted to start a fight, so no one talked.

There was no point confronting Dick about his subterfuge because he already seemed aware that Slade knew. There was also no indication that Damian had told Dick about his confrontation with Slade. Good. That would make Slade's job so much easier.

Once they began their search for Adeline, however, things began to ease up a bit. Conversation began to get pleasant again. The three of them stood in front of a warehouse that looked abandoned.

"According to the information Waller gave us, Ms. Kane's team stayed here," Dick said, looking up at the building.

"Lead on, Detective," Slade said, gesturing toward the doors.

"Ah, don't call me that. Only Ra's al-Ghul calls Batman 'Detective.'"

Together they pushed open the creaking doors. Dick walked first into the large room, which was empty except for a desk and an office chair. Since Addie and her men were ambushed, no one else had looked over the crime scene aside from the police. Truth be told, Slade knew that he couldn't trust the Quraci police to do a thorough job.

The moment they had set foot into Qurac, people stared. Slade didn't give a crap, but he could tell that Dick felt uncomfortable. But the faster they did this, the quicker they would get out of this awful country.

Watching Dick investigate was truly remarkable. Slade had never encouraged Dick's detective skills, but now that he was in need of them he didn't complain.

"Addie was sitting here," Dick said, pointing to a swivel chair. "She was the shortest in the group. Look at the level of the chair."

"Can you figure out who ambushed them?" Slade asked.

"No, but we're going to find out soon." Dick glanced at his sidekick. "Damian, what can you deduce?"

Little Wayne stood alone in the middle of the room, thinking for a moment. "There was a fight."

"Very good, my dear Watson," Dick said dryly. "You see, Damian, but you don't observe. Here, I'll show you." He walked to the other end of the room. "The question we always have to ask is 'why?' Why would anyone be motivated to kidnap Ms. Kane?"

He ran his gloved fingers over the scratch marks on the wall. Even Slade could tell that they looked too clean to be from someone's fingernails. They were the marks of a weapon, a sword perhaps.

"Someone—or a group of people—skilled with a wide range of weapons was here," Dick said. "If it was just a terrorist group, why would they bother with swords? They are arcane, used only by weirdos in capes."

"I use a sword—" Damian interjected.

"If their objective was to murder them all, guns would get the job done faster."

 _Thinking like a villain. Excellent work._ Slade smiled slightly at the thought.

"A sword is more personal," Damian said, affronted. "I prefer to face my enemy when I kill him."

"And some people just don't give a crap."

Many times Slade wondered if he had made the right decision, letting Dick go. While he could have gotten away from Blüdhaven that Halloween night, Slade could have concocted another plan to kidnap him. It wasn't until a few days later that Slade realized he was tired of it all. Tired of trying to control Dick, tired of trying to outsmart him, tired of dealing with such an ungrateful child. He hadn't even realized it until it was over that it was too much work.

Another part of him had wanted to continue training Dick. So much work, so much effort was put into the kid's training that he couldn't just abandon the project. In retrospect, Dick had learned enough. Time had changed him, matured him. Perhaps time would do the same for Slade's surviving children.

"He's right, Wayne," Slade said. "Any idiot can use a gun. Swords are much more rewarding, but not practical."

Damian said nothing smart. After their little chat a couple nights ago, the boy hadn't said anything rude. Either he had learned his lesson or he was just waiting for the opportune moment to strike back. Given what Slade knew of Damian, he suspected the latter.

"Hey, don't give him any ideas," Dick said.

Focus, Dick. I've seen you do it once before. "You're one to talk." Slade shook his head. "We'll talk later. Right now we need to be focused."

At least the Titans weren't here to distract him.

Taking a deep breath, Dick mentally shook himself and got back on track. "All of them were here when they were ambushed," Dick said, kneeling down to examine the floor. "Addie was sitting in that chair over there, watching over everyone."

Dick swept his finger across the desk and licked the dust. Almost at once he spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Faint traces of disinfectant. Recent, too. Someone was in here cleaning up the blood."

Slade had never bothered to learn the necessary details to become a detective. But as Dick continued to speak, he began to imagine the room as it had been. Those small details brought everything to life. He could almost see Addie sitting at that desk, her laptop open, barking orders at her team.

Dick stood up. "Whoever attacked them knew what they were doing."

"But...?" Slade egged. Something else was on Dick's mind.

"They left a trail of bread crumbs for us to follow, and they know it's me tracking them."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Slade asked.

Dick opened the desk drawers. "If they really wanted to keep themselves hidden, then they would have burned down the building. Sure, they cleared away all of Ms. Kane's equipment, but why leave the desk and chair?"

"And why is this significant?" Slade asked. "Assuming that there is nothing inside, why would this help you track her?"

"You're good at tracking people, Slade, but you're a terrible detective." Dick smirked. "There's a lot you taught me that will never be useful for a detective. Didn't I say that deer poop would never come in handy?"

"You never know."

"Just admit it: it'll never come in handy."

Twenty-six years old and he could still be a little snot.

"I'm missing something here," Damian said. "Grayson, why are you and Wilson discussing deer feces?"

"Inside joke. You had to be there."

"We have inside jokes now?" Slade asked.

"In a manner of speaking." Dick shrugged. "I can learn to laugh at you, can't I?"

Some said that humor was a sign of intelligence. Realizing that he was not going to get an explanation, Damian huffed. "And what do you propose to do now?"

"Keep searching. She's in the city," Dick said. "That much I know."

"How?" Slade interjected.

"Magic." Dick rolled his eyes as he began to look for hidden compartments in the desk. "Isn't it obvious? They want you to find her, Slade. They couldn't have taken her far—"

He stopped chatting. Dick's eyes narrowed as he waved Damian to his side. After a few moments he took out a wooden plank from inside the desk drawer and reached inside, pulling out a small white flash drive.

"Wonder what's on it," Dick said. "It doesn't have her name on it. I'm sure there's a message there for us."

Despite himself, Slade was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. The time for negotiating was over. Once they went in to get Addie, there was no turning back. For the first time in his life, Slade did not feel in control of the situation. What would happen would happen, and there was no stopping it.

For now, at least.

**-WW-**

**Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

Wintergreen hadn't spoken to Slade since the mercenary had left for Germany. Everything Wintergreen knew about their journey was given to him by Oracle. Slade was, of course, a secretive man, but one day his secrets were going to get him killed.

Wintergreen sat at the large computer in the basement of Wayne Tower. With Pennyworth's permission, Wintergreen was using it to talk to Slade.

"We're in Abu Dhabi," Slade said.

"Very good, Sir. How close are you to finding Adeline?"

"Dick thinks we're close. He's out right now, trying to find her."

"Did you really think it wise to bring Dick into this, given your... history?"

"You know why."

"Leaving him alone has done you good. Whatever you're doing, there will always be another solution."

"I do have another solution in mind," Slade snapped. "He will never trust me. No one will."

"That's because you don't trust anyone except me." Wintergreen shook his head. "As your friend, I advise you to tell the truth. Hiding things from Dick Grayson will not work well for you."

"For everything to work, he has to stay in the dark. Trust me."

After the attack on Wayne Tower, Wintergreen grew increasingly suspicious of Slade's activities. He didn't want to feel this way, since Slade was, after all, his best friend, but after the gracious hospitality Dick showed him, he could not allow any harm to befall the house of Wayne. Slade had a devious history, after all.

"Whatever is going on, I want you all to come back safe," Wintergreen said.

"I'll do my best. Can I talk to the kids?"

"That depends. If they want to talk to you, then fine."

Wintergreen pushed a button on the intercom. "Rose, Joseph, please come down to the basement. I would like a word with you."

"I trust that you're healing well?" Slade asked.

"The best that I can be, under these circumstances. The company isn't so bad either."

Indeed, Pennyworth was adequate company. Far better company than Dick's young sidekick. As Slade and Wintergreen made small talk, the kids came into the room, freezing when they saw Slade's face on the screen.

"Hey, kids," Slade said carefully, "are you okay?"

"You hurt Wintergreen!" Rose snapped. "Those people attacked Wayne Tower because of you!"

"No, I didn't hurt Wintergreen. The people who kidnapped Addie did!"

Slade suddenly stopped talking, and it took a few seconds for Wintergreen to understand why. He turned to Joseph, who gazed up in incredulity at his father. The boy began signing furiously, asking where his mother was.

"Joey," Slade said, holding up his hands, "slow down, I can't understand you."

In a matter of moments, Joseph gave up trying. He collapsed onto a chair, tears forming in his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. As Wintergreen placed a hand on his shoulder, Joseph shuddered.

"You didn't tell him, Slade?" Wintergreen asked quietly.

"No. I had hoped that he would never know until she returned."

"Let's get out of here," Rose snapped, grabbing Joseph's arm. "I think it'd be better to talk to Dick about this."

"How long are you two staying in Gotham?" Slade asked.

"We only came to visit Will, not talk with you."

Rose turned and stormed out of the room with Joseph in tow. Wintergreen examined the floor, trying to find the right words to say. Poor Joseph! Slade knew better than anyone how much Adeline meant to the boy.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"I didn't want him worried."

"This is his mother you're talking about!"

"I have my reasons, Will. I didn't want him coming with me."

"So you coerced Dick?"

"I didn't coerce him. I asked him to help me precisely because I didn't want Joey here. It's too dangerous for him.

Shutting his eyes tightly, Wintergreen breathed in deeply before looking at his friend again. "Goodbye, Slade. Once Adeline is in your custody, call me."

"Will do."

Another wave of dizziness overcame Wintergreen as he turned off the webcam. He really should get a scan done to make sure that he hadn't been permanently damaged. However, he was well enough that no one had to aid him. Most of the time.

**-DG-**

**Abu Dhabi**

**Hotel Room**

For the first time in a week, they were all dressed in their designated uniforms. Now that they were actively searching for Adeline Kane, their secret identities were a must. Americans in Qurac stood out as it was. Although it was clear that whoever was behind the kidnapping knew their secret identities, it would still be foolish not to try to keep it a secret.

A few years ago he wouldn't have gone anywhere without being in costume, but lately he felt uneasy wearing the cape-and-cowl. While he was slowly getting comfortable in the role, he still didn't like wearing the costume. This wasn't him, and the less time he spent as Batman the better. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes that Bruce had made.

To Dick's surprise, he found himself taking grim satisfaction in Slade's uneasiness. It wasn't often he saw the man uncomfortable. It was a sadistic kind of satisfaction, one that he didn't want to feel in the first place.

Something wasn't right about all this. Unease grew inside him, a horrible feeling that something bad was about to happen. Dick didn't know what to think. He trusted his gut, he trusted that he could handle his emotions, but what made him hesitant to back away was the fact that he had no idea what was going to happen. There was definite proof that Adeline Kane was in danger, and from what Dick understood she had vouched for him. If he could do nothing else, he had to get her out of there.

They had been in Abu Dhabi for two days, yet Dick had found very little information save for what was in the warehouse. Dick sat at the desk in his hotel room on his laptop, Slade hovering over his shoulder as he looked through the flash drive's contents.

"Any luck?" Slade asked.

"It's hard when I don't have the right equipment," Dick said, annoyed. "Technology's changed since you last taught me, Slade."

"You calling me an old man who doesn't keep up with the times?"

"Something like that." Dick clicked on a folder. "It looks like all of the information Ms. Kane's team gathered."

He half-expected a virus to suddenly rip through his computer, but nothing happened. Dick didn't bother reading the documents. A video file labeled "For Wilson and Grayson" immediately caught his eye. They know, Dick thought, clicking on it. _We should proceed with caution._

A man of Middle Eastern descent appeared on the screen. No name immediately popped to Dick's mind. Who was he?

"Hello, gentlemen. My name is Suleiman Matar, and I will be your humble guide in Abu Dhabi. My employer knows that you are searching for Wilson's ex-wife, Ms. Adeline Kane. We would be delighted if you accepted our hospitality this evening at six, where you will find Ms. Kane waiting for you.

"Embedded within the flash drive are directions to the manor where she resides. I do hope you will honor our invitation."

Well, well. If that wasn't a lead, then Dick didn't know what was.

**-TT-**

They hovered in the darkness on the outside of the wall surrounding the manor. Like the Bat he was dressed as, Dick was perched on the stone wall, his shoulders hunched and his eyes narrowed. Robin sat next to him, his legs dangling over the edge, his yellow hood up and obscuring his face.

There were guards around the Manor, though whether they deliberately ignored them or truly didn't see them, Dick didn't know. Slade sat on his other side, poised and ready to strike at the next security guard who walked by.

"I've never seen you this edgy, Slade," Dick said conversationally, pulling out his binoculars. "Something on your mind?"

"Shut up, Bird Brain."

"I'd prefer 'Bats' while in uniform. Not worried, are you?"

If Slade hadn't been wearing his mask, Dick was sure that he would see a scowl. Dick began to scan the windows of the manor.

"You enjoy seeing me like this, don't you?" Slade asked, his voice hard. "Weak, asking for your help... worried over a woman..."

"Welcome back to humanity. I'm just doing my job, Slade. My feelings towards you are irrelevant until we achieve our goal. Robin's right: we can't afford to become emotionally compromised."

Dick adjusted his binoculars until the image became clear. A woman sat at the table, speaking to someone hidden by the wall. Obviously not Quraci, with her Caucasian features. Considering her for a few seconds, Dick finally concluded that this must be Adeline.

"I see her," Dick said. "She's sitting down at a table. She's talking to someone, but I can't see who."

Slade snatched the binoculars away and pressed them to his eye. "Yes, that's her."

"This is too easy," Dick muttered. "She's just right there. A sitting duck. Perfect place for an ambush."

His Batman senses were tingling like crazy. It should have taken days for him to track her down, but on the first night? They were being set up. No doubt about it now. And whoever Mr. Matar was working for knew it.

"For the world's greatest tactician, he can be an idiot," Damian said.

"What do you—?"

Dick suddenly realized that Slade was gone. Dick twisted his neck around, trying to see where Slade could have possibly gone. Did he just run ahead without a plan? Dick didn't take him for an idiot, but this put the cherry on top. Oh boy, he didn't want to deal with this right now. _"Slade!"_

And Slade had lectured him on being stupid? No wonder the man had asked for help. Mouthing an expletive, Dick shoved his binoculars back into his utility belt.

"Come on, Robin. We're going after him."

"He can get himself killed for all I care," Damian replied.

"That isn't the right thing to do and you know that."

"Well, he's not the reason I'm here. Our goal is to get Ms. Kane out of here. We can't stop, not now."

Both of them leapt off the wall and began to run towards the manor. No matter what Dick told himself, he knew that he was running straight into a trap.


	14. Ms. Adeline Kane

**-WW-**

**Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

Convincing Rose and Joseph to leave Gotham was an exhausting task. Obviously Joseph was upset over the fact that his mother was in danger, but there was nothing he could do but wait for his father to come back. Several times Wintergreen had tried to assure him that Dick would make sure Adeline returned home. These assurances somewhat alleviated his anxiety, but Joseph wasn't stupid. He knew that all four people in Abu Dhabi were in great danger—and all of them were friends and family. Joseph was too kind not to consider Damian a friend.

They would return to Jump City in the morning. Joseph's friends—the other Titans—they would be able to comfort him better than Wintergreen could at the moment.

Wintergreen's arms ached as he dragged himself forward on his crutches towards the kitchen, intending to fix himself a cuppa. Someone was already there, sitting at the kitchen counter, his sudden glare cold enough to kill. It took Wintergreen a moment to remember that this was Jason Todd, Batman's second Robin. Wintergreen tensed, though he didn't know why.

"Relax, old guy, I'm not gonna punch you. I just want a pop and a snack. I got a 'get out of jail free card,' if you're wondering why I'm up here."

Wintergreen searched his memory. From what he could recall, Todd became Robin a few years after Dick retired from the role. Wintergreen had watched him on the news half-heartedly, shaking his head whenever Todd did something foolish. Not that he believed Todd was foolish or unnecessarily aggressive—Batman had picked him for a reason, after all.

"If you've been shot," Wintergreen said, "then you shouldn't be walking around."

"Like you care." Todd poked his head out of the fridge, a leftover doughnut in his mouth. "'Sides, aren't you with the bad guys?"

"My friendship with Slade Wilson does not make me a 'bad guy.' As I'm sure you're well aware, morality is relative."

"Morality is what now?" Crumbs decorated his visage.

Wintergreen shook his head. "I have no desire to interact with you, Todd."

The boy had no manners. At least Dick had some manners, despite his tendency to pick fights with Slade. Wintergreen assumed that circumstances dictated manner, and since Dick had reason to be rude, had brushed it aside more easily than Slade. Todd, however, had no excuse for his rudeness.

"Where are you going?"

"Places to go. Things to do. Bad guys to kill." Todd shrugged. "All in a day's work."

Shoving the last bit of doughnut into his mouth, Todd began to walk away, licking the sugar from his fingers. Wintergreen blocked his way, trying to look intimidating despite his crutches.

"Do you know who kidnapped Adeline?" Wintergreen asked.

"Oh God, not you too." Todd burped. "I've already been interrogated by those other losers."

"Learn some manners, young man!"

"Or else what?"

"I need to know what is going on immediately," Wintergreen snapped. "If your actions have proved detrimental to Slade and Dick's mission, then you will be held responsible."

"Why? Because I helped? I don't deal in absolutes. I'm sure you don't either, old man."

Todd pushed his chair away from the counter and stood up. Annoyance seeped through Wintergreen. Ignoring stabs of pain, he grabbed the front of Todd's leather jacket and shook him. "Show some respect, young man!"

"Manhandling your fellow guest, I see." A girl's voice. Both Todd and Wintergreen turned their heads towards the sound of the voice. Batgirl strode in slightly bewildered at the sight before her. Pennyworth followed her. "Would you mind letting go of him, Major?"

Very well. There was no point threatening Todd anyway. Despite both of them being wounded Todd was younger, more aggressive. He could have killed Wintergreen if he wanted to.

"Jason, I need to talk to you," Batgirl said. "I know you won't rat out your blackmailers just yet, but I'm sure you could give us other info."

"We'll grant you temporary immunity," Pennyworth said. "If you tell us who is responsible for these attacks, then Wayne Enterprises will compensate you for your stolen goods."

Which, to be honest, Todd probably stolen in the first place.

"And...?" Todd egged.

"What more do you want, Jason?" Brown demanded.

"Eh, it couldn't hurt to ask for spare change."

"Now, now, Bratgirl, you'll understand why I'm asking for a lot. These people I work for, they don't play nice. They probably already know that I'm talking to you now."

"If you know that you won't be able to defeat them by yourself—since you've obviously so fabulous that you need no help at all—then what do you have to lose by working with us?" Brown asked.

In a way, Todd was like Slade: hotheaded and resistant to help. If Todd had been Robin while Slade was searching for an apprentice, that certainly would have ended quickly.

"If I were you, Todd, I'd accept their help," Wintergreen said. "At this point you have nothing to lose."

Well, it was true. Even if he wanted to leave, Todd was still injured. Since he worked alone and lived alone, he was targeted by whomever wanted Batman and Robin out of Gotham.

"Nothing except my pride, old guy."

_It's not your place to lecture him,_ Wintergreen chided himself. _And it is not the time. He will learn how to respect his elders after this is over. I understand now why Batman had so much trouble with this Robin._

Todd hesitated.

"I don't know why she's involved," Todd said. "But she wants Batman and Robin out of the country. What better place to kill off the Bats than in Qurac? Sure, a couple of dead Americans will attract attention, but they are dead the minute they get to Abu Dhabi."

"Why?" Wintergreen asked.

"Hey, man, I'm just trying to survive." Todd raised his hands. "I did what I had to do. I don't know the specifics."

Everyone exchanged glances. "They're already in Qurac," Batgirl said. "Just how screwed are they, Jason?"

"Cheshire kept the Harpers away for a reason," Todd said. "Gotham will be bombarded by a series of coordinated attacks. Makes sense that she'd want her daughter away from the attacks."

"Is there anything we can do to stop them?" Brown asked.

"Well, yeah. Two ways, actually. From what I understand, you could technically try to defeat them. Make them abort their plan before they cause anymore harm. However, once Slade delivers whatever he's supposed to deliver, then they will stop."

"Who are 'they'?" Brown asked.

Todd smiled grimly. "The al Ghuls."

**-DG-**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

The guards raised their weapons as Batman and Robin rushed into the building, although they made no more to hurt the Dynamic Duo.

_Where's Slade?_ Did he get in another way? Or was he somewhere else. Dick rammed himself against the heavy wooden door and busted it open.

As he fell into the room he nearly ran into Slade. Damian skidded into him as Dick stopped himself, pulling himself up to his full height as he faced Slade.

"You idiot," Dick snapped. "What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?"

"I see you came in through the door," Slade said. "That's a little out of character. No wonder they know you're not the real one."

There was nothing else Dick could do but bristle. The three of them moved quickly through the hallway, looking for the room with Adeline Kane. Dick heard people moving around beyond the walls, their voices speaking an indistinguishable foreign tongue.

"Shall we split up?" Damian asked. "We might be more productive if we do."

"No," Dick replied. "At the very least you're staying with me. These people know we're here. It's only a matter of time before they start attacking us."

Their footsteps echoed too loudly in the hallway. The hairs on the back of Dick's neck rose, though he couldn't figure out why.

_I should have checked in with Barbara again,_ he thought. _If this does end up being a trap, then I'm never going to hear the end of it from her._

The footsteps sounded closer. Sweat saturated his stupid costume. The cape weighed him down. He suppressed an urge to take it off. No, he couldn't. It was part of the Batman. It was part of him, even if he didn't want to admit it.

_Bruce helped me become this,_ he thought, _he helped me become who I am today._

Yet at times like these, it was so very, very difficult to remember that he had volunteered for the position, even when everyone expected him to inherit the role.

"This has got to be it," Slade said, gesturing towards two large wooden doors. "Are you ready?"

"Let's just open the doors."

Together, he and Slade pushed open the doors. Dick didn't fail to note that Damian refused to offer help. The doors moaned and creaked as they pushed them open. Bright light shone down on them as they walked into a large, nearly empty room.

"Welcome, Batman, Robin, and Deathstroke. It really is an honor to finally meet you." A dusky man in an Armani business suit stood up from his seat at a wooden table. "Unfortunately, you just missed my employer. I'm certain that he will return if I notify—"

"Shut up, Matar," Slade growled. "You know why we're here."

"Why must you insult me so? Don't worry. As you see, she is quite unharmed." Mr. Matar gestured towards the woman sitting at the table behind him.

Adeline Kane was, Dick had to admit, a beautiful woman. He hadn't had much personal contact with her except through Joey. Seeing her in the flesh was different than through pictures. Who could have believed that someone would ever want to marry Slade? Who could get along with Slade? She stood up.

"Let her go!" Dick announced, uncertain how Slade would respond. "Let's deal with this like gentlemen."

_Like gentlemen my ass,_ Dick thought bitterly.

"Did you bring your former apprentice as a mediator, Deathstroke? How delightful. How did you manage to convince him to come along?" Mr. Matar turned to Dick. "Did he have to extort you again?"

Why did everyone have to comment on that? The apprenticeship was ten years ago. Did people believe that he couldn't get over it? That Slade couldn't get over it?

"I came of my own free will," Dick replied. "But that's beside the point, Mr. Matar. It is my duty as Batman to protect people."

"Yes, yes, I've heard the whole spiel before: Batman is the hero that Gotham deserves. But he's not the hero the world deserves."

"It looks like you've done your homework," Dick replied. "But are you ready for a pop quiz?"

Behind him, Damian groaned. "How my father dealt with you I haven't the _faintest_ idea."

"I dare you to come up with a better one."

"Shut up, all of you." Mr. Matar grabbed Ms. Kane and pressed a gun to her temple. "Don't move, gentlemen. No one will get what they want until I've settled matters with Wilson."

A sudden thought struck Dick. "Do you know him, Slade?"

"We've talked before."

"Enough, Wilson. I will kill the woman," said Matar. "She's what you want. And I don't think you want another death on your ledger, Mr. Grayson."

Somehow, it didn't surprise Dick one bit that Matar knew his name. The ninja attack proved that at least one of their identities had been compromised.

"I'm sure when can come to some agreement," Dick said. "As I'm sure you've noticed, you're outnumbered."

As he talked he allowed his hand to move towards his utility belt. A well-placed Bat-A-Rang would do the trick. He hoped.

"Really? You would be willing to negotiate? I highly doubt that. Besides, neither of us would end up happy."

Dick held out a hand as Damian tensed, ready to throw his own bird-a-rang. Skilled he may be, but they couldn't risk it just yet.

_Who is this guy?_

Although Dick hadn't had the time to run a background check on Suleiman Matar, the one thing he was sure of was that he knew absolutely nothing about the guy. As to who his employer was... well, he could make a few educated guesses.

"I don't have time for this," Addie snapped.

She smashed her joined hands straight into Matar's diaphragm. Ouch. In one fluid movement she had Matar on his knees. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and kneed him in the face.

Well, that escalated quickly.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Batman and Robin flung their Bat-a-rangs towards Matar, who ducked away. Slade took out his gun and cocked it. Addie bent and snatched the gun away from her captor. Matar scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping as Addie fired at him. He reached inside his coat and pulled out another gun.

"Oh no you don't!" Slade lurched forward, launching himself between Matar and Addie. "Batman, Robin, get her out of here!"

Gunshots filled the air as Slade and Matar opened fire. If this was the secret HQ of whoever was behind this, then more men were bound to come.

Well, if Slade wanted to jump right into a bloodbath, then Dick wasn't stopping him. Dick preferred that Damian stay away from the gunfire, and if Slade wanted to be stupid then Dick would let him. After ordering Damian to stay put unless he had to fight back, Dick stepped forward and grabbed Ms. Kane's upper arm gently.

"Ms. Kane—"

"You have to get out of here!" said Ms. Kane. "Take your Robin and go! It's not safe!"

"When is it ever safe?" Dick grabbed her shoulders. "I swore that I'd get you out of here. So come on!"

A sudden _click_ made Dick pause. Turning, he found himself staring right into the barrel of the gun. His eyes trailed from the barrel to the gunwoman.

"You have to leave," Addie said.

This was the woman who trained Slade how to fight. Dick suddenly didn't know how to feel. Had she been the source of all his troubles? No, she was trying to help him. But why?

"I can't abandon you!"

"You can, and you will." She leaned in close, and for the first time Dick understood how she got along with Slade: she was as fierce as he was. "I don't care if you're Batman. This is an order."

He moved to knock the gun out of her hand. She moved swiftly away, her gun still trained on him.

"Slade lied to you. The safest thing to do is to leave with Robin. I came into this mess knowing that I could die. You don't need to die with me."

After a moment Dick nodded. She had every right to fight back against her captors. "I'll go outside the building."

**-SW-**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

Out of the corner of his eye Slade saw Batman and Robin retreating, though Slade was sure that they wouldn't even get out of the building. No doubt Addie's doing. But if Slade knew Dick well enough, the kid wouldn't abandon them. He wouldn't leave the freaking country until he knew that Addie was safe. Speaking of Addie, she was the only one fighting by his side. They pressed their backs against each other as more men flooded the room, all of them armed and dangerous.

"You're an idiot," Addie said.

"Glad to see you too."

"Have you forgotten what I taught you all those years ago?" Her fist met the gut of a charging thug. "You still treat the enemy like a battering ram."

"Who says that I forgot your lessons? I'm here, aren't I?"

"I'm going to kill you once this is all over," Addie said. "Thanks to Grayson's self-righteous attitude I can't get him to leave the city."

"Let's talk about it later."

All they had to do was get out of here. They could do it without having to pay the ransom. For the first time in a week his heart soared a little. He disliked being bossed around, but that meant that Addie was all right. For now.

Besides, they would have plenty to talk about on the plane ride home.

"Why do you have the bigger gun?" Slade asked, noting the machine gun in her hands.

"I'm the one giving orders around here, Slade Wilson." She smirked. "Do you feel the need to make up for something?"

"You're hilarious."

"No, just honest. I knowyou're making up for something."

Deadly, but beautiful. Though no longer a young woman, she moved and fought like one. Her skills were as sharp as ever.

He remembered his first lesson with her. Treat the enemy as individuals, don't barge through them like a battering ram. That advice had saved him more times than he could count. Memories of their private lessons were cherished, never forgotten. Perhaps she was the one who wanted to forget.  
Something large and black flew across the room. From the looks of things, someone had thrown Batman across the room. As Slade watched Dick twisted in the air and landed gracefully, far more gracefully than the real Batman would have done.

"We have the building completely surrounded," Mr. Matar shouted. "Surrender now and you will all live."

"To hell with that!" Slade snapped. "The deal's off! You can go screw yourself."

A shower of bullets answered him. Slade grabbed Addie and pushed her away from the bullets, ignoring the storm of curse words she flung at him.

"Batman!" A young, frightened voice. Damian's voice.

Distracted, Slade turned and found Dick staggering, blood dripping from a bullet wound in his side. He crumpled to the floor. Little Wayne stopped what he was doing to drag Grayson away from the gun fight, his muscles straining as hauled a man three times his size across the floor. Batman hardly moved an inch. Little Wayne wouldn't be able to do it.

"I got him," Slade said, grabbing Dick underneath the armpits. "I'll get him out of the way. Take those guys out."

Damian didn't move. Their attackers were closing in, their guns raised.

_"That's an order, Robin!"_ Slade snapped. "I won't hurt him!"

Where was Addie? She had more medical training than Slade. He rarely had to deal with gunshot wounds these days. Slade hauled Dick to the side of the room and propped him up against the wall. For a moment the bullets stopped firing as Robin approached Matar, who was obviously hesitant to shoot a child.

"Help him," Dick growled, pointing to Damian. "Leave me alone."

"Will you let me take a look?" Slade asked.

Without waiting for a response Slade swept Dick's hand aside. Bright red blood soaked his side. Even with the Kevlar bullets could still rip through the Batman's suit. From the look of it, Dick would live if he received the proper medical attention. Slade touched the wound gently, earning an expletive from Dick.

"I know it hurts," Slade said. "You're out of commission for now, chum."

There were worse things that could happen. A bullet to the gut hurt, but it wouldn't cripple him for life.

"Can... can you take the bullet out?"

"It's too dangerous to take it out now," Slade said. "You'll bleed to death. Addie will have to take care of you later."

"I can't just sit here and—"

"You have to."

No matter what Dick faced, he had somehow managed to pull off the impossible before. As a sixteen-year-old he had outsmarted Deathstroke, the world's greatest tactician. Sometimes Slade resented him for it. It wasn't that Slade hated Dick, because he didn't. If Slade needed to pound Dick's head repeatedly into the ground to knock some sense into him, then so be it, but Slade would not let him die.

"Batman doesn't give up," Dick said.

Slade paused. Dick's Batman voice was gone, worn down by the bullet in his gut. Even if he had fooled all of Gotham into thinking that he was Batman, that tone was too young to belong to Batman. Too vulnerable.

_I can't just leave him here,_ Slade thought. He took something out of his utility belt.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry about this." Dick jerked violently as Slade jammed a syringe into his neck. "It's a painkiller. Not enough to knock you out, but it'll dull the pain enough to allow you to move."

That was the most Slade could do under these circumstances. There was no time to dress the wound. If they stayed here any longer they would be surrounded and probably shot. Dick visibly relaxed, the painkiller finally kicking in.

"You could have asked first."

"Don't try to lie, I know when you're in pain. Besides, there isn't much time. Take Robin and get out of here."

"What?"

"It's too dangerous for you to stay," Slade replied. "You need to leave."

"What about Ms. Kane?"

"We're capable of taking care of ourselves. She asked you to leave anyway. I agree."

Even through the mask, Slade could see the uncertainty in Dick's face. What reason did he have to trust Slade?

Somehow Dick pushed himself to his feet. Robin needed to help him get out. Numbing the pain could only help so much. It wouldn't stop the bleeding and it wouldn't save his life.

"Get somewhere safe and staunch the bleeding," Slade said. "We'll meet you there, and Addie will be able to treat your wound. Do you understand?"

Matar and Robin were locked in combat. Addie hid behind the overturned table, a large automatic resting on her shoulder. Despite the shouting and screaming and the sprays of bullets, Dick stood there, surprisingly calm.

A woman's scream interrupted Slade's thoughts.

It wasn't a blood-curdling scream of pain, but one of surprise. Time seemed to stop. Turning, Slade watched as their other attackers paused, curious. Something fell heavily to the floor—her gun, her only line of defense. Blood saturated her shirt.

_"ADDIE!"_

She glanced down at her chest. "Oh."

Somehow Damian caught her, though he appeared to be on the verge of collapsing himself. Her hands moved towards the wound, blood seeping through the cracks between her fingers.

"Get Robin out of here," she said. "NOW!"

Slade suddenly couldn't _breathe._

"I said that I would shoot the woman." Mr. Matar's gun never left her. "Will a mercy killing be in order? And shall I kill Grayson as well? They are not needed."

"Stay there, Robin," Slade said, holding up a hand to Damian. "I believe a negotiation is in order."

Part of Slade knew that there was no need to be angry at Matar. He was only doing his job on behalf of his employers. But nothing would ever excuse the fact that he willingly shot Addie.

"A negotiation?" Matar repeated, incredulous. "The time for negotiations is past, Mr. Wilson."

Dick grabbed her wrist, feeling for a pulse. "She's dying."

No.

A great emptiness swirled inside of Slade, as though someone had completely drained him of emotion. Then terror began to fill him. What should he do? What was going on?

"You have dishonored our agreement," Mr. Matar said. "You deliberately disobeyed orders. Your defiance has a price, Wilson."

"Indeed it does."

Blood splattered the wall as Slade turned and rammed his sword straight through the man's heart.

"You're going to regret this." Twisting his sword, he watched as the Matar's eyes rolled to the back of his head. "You don't backstab Deathstroke without a price."

"Some... somehow," Matar spluttered, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, "I'm not surprised that they left me to die."

With a roar the other men lunged at Slade, but he didn't care. He scooped up the automatic machine gun and began to mow them down. Blood and brains and sweat seemed to meld into one. They flecked his face, his goatee, matted his hair.

Breathing heavily, his blood pounding in his ears, Slade stood triumphantly among the bodies. For the first time in minutes he noticed foreign blood running down his face, soaking his clothing. A man groaned. Without even bothering to look, Slade lifted the gun and emptied a few rounds into him.

Despite the drug in his system, Dick hadn't moved at all. Maybe the wound was worse than Slade thought. Damian, who knelt next to Dick's limp form, simply stared, his face expressionless. He hadn't lifted a finger to help Slade murder these men, but he didn't try to stop him either.

Slade knelt next to Damian and ripped off the Batman's cowl to look at Dick's face. Unhealthily pale. Erratic breathing. Probably would pass out from blood loss if Slade didn't do something soon. Dick's eyes fluttered open.

"You killed them."

It was a statement, not a question. Dick said nothing more.

"Will he be all right, Wilson?" Damian demanded, his voice a bit higher than usual. "Dick?"

Something about Damian's tone caught Slade's attention. It took him a moment to realize that Damian hadn't called him "Grayson," but "Dick."

"Stay with me, kid," Slade said, patting Dick's cheek. "Stay awake as long as you can. Robin, look after him for a moment."

He moved over to Addie, who had completely passed out. A quick glance at her body told Slade that Matar had hit a major artery. Ripping her shirt open to see the wound, Slade sucked in his breath. It was bad. Really bad.

_No._

Blood from his fingers smeared her pale face, matted her dark curly hair. He began to fight back sudden tears.

_No..._

Cradling her body in his arms, he began to rock her, as though he could bring her back to life. Her pulse was faint; she was barely alive.

"There's a way to save her," Damian said, looking steadily at Slade. "The Lazarus Pit."

A cold silence crept between them all. Dick's breathing became erratic, as though he was about to pass out.

"No," Dick spluttered, "last resort."

"I understand the consequences better than you!" Damian snapped. "Wilson, she has already fainted from blood loss. If we cannot access the necessary medical supplies, then we have no other choice. She will die."

They would be followed. Dick couldn't go far with his injuries, and Damian wouldn't be able to carry him there. Come to think of it, Damian wouldn't be able to carry Addie either. Trying to escape the country was out of the question.

_But the Lazarus Pit..._

It had never even occurred to Slade that the Pit was even an option. When Damian had mentioned it earlier Slade simply filed away the information as another interesting factoid about Abu Dhabi.

After taking a deep breath, Slade nodded. "Take us to the Lazaraus Pit."


	15. The Lazarus Pit

**-SW-**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

Dick just _had_ to get himself shot, didn't he?

The four of them made slow progress. Addie lay tucked in Slade's arms, unaware of the danger she was in. Dick could move, but he needed Damian's help to move quickly. Robin strode resolutely forward, carrying most of Dick's weight, his face grim. Soon the little one would tire out.

"They're closing in on us," Damian said. "Do you have a plan, Wilson?"

"I'm improvising."

They couldn't run around forever. Slade didn't know his way around here. He should have thought out his betrayal; he was getting sloppy. Damian made some smart comment, but Slade tuned it out. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

"We need to find some transportation," Slade said. "We have no hope of outrunning them."

"Tell me something I don't know!" Damian snapped.

Infuriating little—

Damian tripped and fell heavily to the floor, unable to support Dick's weight. Both of them lay on the floor for a few seconds, unable to move. All of the training in the world wouldn't help Damian now. Slade held out a hand. "I can help you carry him."

"No!" Damian bent to help Dick to his feet. "You cannot support the weight of two adults, and I do not need help."

"Robin..." Dick's voice sounded weak. "Let him help you."

Telling Damian to allow Slade to help must have cost Dick a ton of pride. Slade shifted Addie to one arm and pulled Dick to his feet, motioning him to lean on his shoulder for support. Not content with leaving Dick's side, Damian lifted Dick's arm over his own shoulders.

"We look like freaks," Damian said. "We're not going to get far like this."

"Sorry, but Dick's the dead weight here."

Addie's weight was nothing compared to Dick's. All the muscle and Kevlar and gear weighed him down. Addie had nothing but the clothes on her back.

As they hobbled down the hallway Slade began to wonder if he had made the right decision. He could have told Dick right from the beginning what he meant to do. Some of what Slade told him was true: he trusted Dick far more than any other cape. So why didn't he just say it?

_Because he would have refused._

Would he? Or would have done all he could to help Addie? To come up with a plan with Slade? As much as Slade wanted to believe that was possible, he knew that he had caused Dick too much strife. Nothing he ever did or said would be taken seriously anymore, especially not after this.

They slowed. Running around aimlessly was a terrible idea. Slade jerked doors open, abandoning them when he saw rooms full of boxes. They must be in a storage area. As Slade opened the door at the end of the hall, he smiled. A garage full of black cars. Good.

"Do you know how to hotwire a car, Robin?" Slade asked.

"A lowly skill, but I have it nevertheless."

"Good. Do that for me while I get Addie and Dick into the back."

Slade opened the back of the van as Damian crawled into the front seat. He laid Addie's limp form across the car seat before helping Dick to his feet. Blood continued to splatter the pavement.

"Stay awake," Slade snapped as Dick's eyes drooped shut. "Come on. You're not going to die on me today."

"I'm tired..."

He wasn't even _pretending_ to be Batman anymore. Maybe it was the painkiller, maybe it was the shock of being shot, but Dick had to snap out of it.

"I'm not a good Batman..." he mumbled, just loud enough for Slade to hear.

"I don't care. Look at me." Slade grabbed Dick's chin. "You have a daughter. Don't die on her."

Slade let go of him. Moving feebly, Dick propped himself up on his elbows and gazed at Slade steadily. Dick's jaw clenched tightly. Slade couldn't read the expression on Dick's face. Was he angry that Slade mentioned her?

Their daughters—their connection to their children—was something Slade now had in common with Dick. If Slade had to pinpoint the moment when he realized he couldn't betray Dick, it was the moment he realized that Dick had a daughter with the Tamaranean.

Dick's eyes drifted over to Addie, who was bleeding all over the car seat.

"Slade," Dick said, "what did you mean 'the deal's off'?"

"Never mind that," Slade replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "I'll explain everything later."

So, Slade's suspicions were right: Dick knew. It had been too much to hope that Dick wouldn't figure it out until they reached the al Ghuls. There was nothing Dick could do to stop him anyway, and he knew it.

The car roared to life. "It's ready, Wilson!"

"Stay in the back and make sure they're okay," Slade said. "But you need to give me directions to the Pit."

Out of the corner of his eye Slade spotted a medkit. Slade grabbed it and ripped it open, shoving a handful of gauzes to Damian. "Try to keep the bleeding to a minimum. Do not—I repeat—do not attempt to take the bullets out of either of them. While Addie revives I'll try to help Dick. Okay?"

"Understood."

A great roar erupted from the hallway. Time to go. Slade hopped in the front seat and slammed the door shut. True to his word Little Wayne had hotwired the car beautifully. Tires squealed as Slade drove the hell out of there, running down the guards who jumped in his way.

Bullets shot cracked the window, although Slade didn't care. If he looked away from the road for just one second he could veer to the side. Any sudden, jerky movements could accidentally kill Addie.

As Slade drove he watched Damian in the back of the van through the rear-view mirror. Damian sat next to Dick, who groaned whenever the car flew over a bump.

 _Hang on,_ Slade thought. _All of you._

**-JT-**

**Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

Alfred, Brown and Wintergreen stood in silence for a few seconds. Jason felt no satisfaction as he looked upon their shocked faces. Why should he feel that way? Talia forced him to run her errands. Jason Todd was a free spirit who liked the wind in his hair and the blood of his enemies splattered across his uniform. Ahh, yes. What Jason wouldn't give to kill Ra's al Ghul now...

"The _al Ghuls?_ " Brown repeated.

"Yeah, I'm in cahoots with the al Ghuls."

"But... why?"

"It's a long story, sweetheart, but Miss Talia's the reason why I'm here."

A few years ago he would have never suspected that he would get cozy with the al Ghuls. Back when he fought against them with Batman he considered them the enemy. Who would have guessed that Ra's al Ghul would find the need to resurrect poor little Jason Todd?

 _Maybe because he knew I'd be useful,_ Jason thought bitterly.

Everything had changed after the Lazarus Pit.

Time slipped through his fingers, and his memories were full of nightmares. Bruce had slept with Talia, and then the little demon child had popped out. Bruce—that self-righteous bastard—had lectured him against getting involved with the enemy, and then turned around to flirt with Catwoman. See, the thing was that Jason considered himself more of a realist than any of the other Bats. Why act as a hypocrite? Jason wasn't going to lie anytime soon about killing those drug dealers.

"What did you do?" Alfred asked quietly.

"You wanna know how the al Ghul brat got out of Gotham?" Jason jammed a thumb at his chest. "Numerouno. I arranged the airplane and everything. Not sure if Damian knew it was me, but I don't care."

"How could you?" Brown asked, her eyes widening.

"What was I supposed to do? Bruce is dead. If his mother wants him back, then I'm not going to stop her."

Pain shot out in spurts as Stephanie suddenly lunged at him, her fists pummeling his hurt stomach. His head spun as it hit the wooden floor.

"Get off me!" he snapped.

"Why? So you can betray us some more?"

"There's nothing you could have done!"

"You could have told us from the beginning!"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell the al Ghuls that the deal was off? Even I'm not that stupid."

"They'll probably kill Dick!" Brown snapped. "Didn't think of that now, did you?"

Someone pulled them apart. Alfred held Steph back. The tip of one of Wintergreen's crutches pinned Jason lightly to the floor. As Jason backed away he felt the bullet wound open again. Great. He grimaced, spitting blood at her.

"They could have killed me too," Jason said. "Whatever happened to your sentimental crap, Brown?" His voice became a sneer. "Now that Dick's in danger you don't give a damn about me."

"Enough," Alfred said quietly. "What's done is done. We cannot hope to repair the damage unless we work together."

Despite Alfred's calm voice, Jason could tell he was just as angry as Brown. Dick dying had never been on Jason's agenda, so they couldn't really blame him. If anything, blame the al Ghuls. They were the ones who started this mess in the first place.

Jason stood up and leaned against the counter. Huh. Now the Bats were going to coerce him into fighting alongside them. Well, this was going to be fun.

**-TD-**

**Titans Tower**

**Jump City, California**

_Hello, JJ._

Tim's body jerked reflexively as a memory whispered in his ear. He flailed as he tried to right himself, the chair he was sitting in tipping dangerously backwards. Tim ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

"Whoa," he whispered. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He scooted the chair closer to the computer screen, grimacing at the thought of "Joker Junior."

 _Batman stopped it,_ he thought, trying to calm himself done. _He found me before the Joker could do anything else. I'm still here._

Maybe Tim shouldn't have snapped at Dick for being so distant. Tim's own run as Robin was just as troubled. Luck had never been on a Robin's side. Sometimes the memories of his darker days, such as his horrible run-in with the Joker, hung over him, and he regretted the decision to become Robin. Perhaps Bruce had been right, and after two Robins prematurely retired he shouldn't have allowed Tim to fill the position.

The computer bleeped. Someone was calling him.

"Tim?" Steph's voice.

"Steph!" He let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "How are you in Gotham?"

"All right. Look, we need your help. Jason warned us that the al Ghuls are going to start attacking Gotham, but I suspect that they could attack you too. Roy already got a visit from Cheshire, who told him to stay away."

"The al Ghuls? Since when have they been involved?"

"Everything that's been happening is their fault!"

"Calm down," he said. "Tell me what happened."

She could be overly emotional at times. Spontaneous in a bad way. Without waiting for another invitation, Steph launched into a detailed account of last night's events. He sat still, hands folded underneath his chin, listening closely.

"What did I tell Dick!" Tim threw up his hands. "He shouldn't have gone."

"It seems as though Adeline Kane's kidnapping is very real, though," Steph said. "Ra's must have extorted Slade the same way Talia extorted Jason."

Slade being exorted? Now there was some surprising news. Deathstroke wasn't the kind of person easily befuddled.

"Where are they now?" he asked.

"In Abu Dhabi."

"What are we going to do?"

"If the al Ghuls are behind this, then we're going to have to contact them."

"If Dick is dead—"

"We don't know if he is, Steph."

Dick dead. It was unthinkable. But Tim couldn't afford to let himself feel worried. Detaching himself and thinking rationally was the only way they could get through this. Freaking out never did anyone any good. Steph calmed down and shook her head.

"Talia wants her son back. That much is clear. I know you don't like him, Tim, but you know how much Damian means to Dick. Don't let Talia do this."

Tim crossed his arms over his chest. The imp didn't deserve a second chance. For all Tim cared Talia could take him back. But Damian was dangerous for a ten-year-old, and if Dick didn't keep him under control then Damian could become a much bigger threat than he already was.

"Whatever. It's fine, I'll talk to Ra's. Everything will be fine."

Though he didn't want to say it in front of Steph, Tim felt as though Ra's would respect his opinion more than hers. Not that Steph wouldn't be a good negotiator or anything—but Tim had experience dealing with Ra's.

 _I can't believe I'm going to bargain for that brat's freedom_ , he thought.

"Promise?"

"I'll be sure to talk to Dick first... if I can." Tim sighed. "I just hope we're not too late."

Once he logged off he began to massage the bridge of his nose. Calling the al Ghuls without an invitation was sure to bring more problems than he bargained for. After gathering his courage he sat up straighter in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Best to look presentable in front of one of the greatest criminal masterminds in the world.

**-DW-**

**The Lazarus Pit, Qurac**

Hardly anyone else was aware of the Pit's existence, though that was because Grand-Father made it hard to find. The only things Damian remembered about the trip to the Lazarus Pit was that it was cool, haunting and a difficult descent with two wounded people.

"Be aware of the temporary insanity," Damian said. "It is a side-effect that we cannot control. The shock of being reborn may break her mind, just as it did to Jason Todd. Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes."

He could not read the expression on Wilson's face.

"Very well. Do not touch the water, else you will be driven insane."

Wilson lowered the woman gently into the bubbling water. She disappeared underneath the water, the hairs of the back of Damian's neck rising as the liquid filled her mouth and nose. The urge to yank her out of the water felt strong. Even after watching Grand-Father, it still baffled him that one seemed to _drown_ before being raised from the dead.

Damian allowed himself to sit down. He was so tired—tired from fighting and tired of running away. They should have ended the conflict. None of this would have happened if Damian hadn't taken out Matar himself. Grayson lay on the rocky floor, numbed and delirious with a powerful painkiller. Whatever Wilson gave him, it kicked in _now._

"Are we... we better not be where I think we are." Somehow Grayson managed to stand up on wobbly legs. "I said no on the Lazarus Pit."

"It's my decision, Dick," Wilson said. "She's dying."

Everything Damian had heard about the mercenary dissipated in the last week. An amoral mercenary, that was how Grayson had described him. His tutors said that he was the best mercenary in the world, and before he took their word over Grayson's. But as he watched Wilson he began to realize that Grayson was right.

Wilson had every reason to leave them behind once Kane was shot, but he aided them. If Damian was not attached to Grayson, he would have left him behind, but Wilson took the risk to get Grayson out. Whether that was leftover sentiment from the apprenticeship or not, Damian would never know.

_He is not as cold-blooded as my tutors made him out to be._

The doors slammed shut behind them. Something hissed, probably from the vents hidden within the rocky walls. Damian sniffed the air.

"No..." Dick began to thrash violently. _"NO! NO! NO!"_

A familiar smell floated to Damian's nostrils. Knock-out gas. He immediately dropped to the floor, dragging Grayson along with him.

"Get down, Wilson!" Damian snapped. "The gas will knock you out!"

"I have to be here when she wakes," Wilson replied. "I'll be able to survive the gas longer than you can."

Oh. Wilson's exceptional healing abilities. Perhaps they would finally be of use to someone other than himself. Let him be. Although Damian intended to get Kane out of here alive, he was more preoccupied with Grayson's increasingly alarming medical condition.

"Flailing about won't do you any good," Damian said to Grayson. "Stay calm, you won't die."

 _But he will if he doesn't receive the proper medical attention,_ Damian thought.

Grayson didn't listen to him. He never did. In two astonishing moves Grayson had Slade pinned to the floor, his fists pummeling the mercenary's face.

"Grayson, what are you doing?" Damian tried to pull Grayson away from Slade. "Wilson is trying to help."

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Grayson said. "You killed all those people."

"Now's not the time, Dick!" Wilson barked, shoving Grayson off him. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I... Slade... you..." Grayson suddenly backed into the wall, sliding down and curling into the fetal position. "Stay away from me."

"What's wrong with him?" Damian snapped his head towards Wilson. "Deathstroke?"

Wilson ignored him. "Dick, look at me." Slade grabbed his chin and forced Grayson to look at him. "It's all in your head. You know that."

_"GET AWAY FROM ME!"_

Everything about that scream was awful. It was the cry of a wounded animal, not of a man. Grayson's normally deep voice cracked and echoed in the cave walls. Whatever was in the air caused him to become irrational.

"Dr. Crane," Wilson said, "you've outdone yourself."

"What are you talking about?" Damian demanded.

"Dick knows Scarecrow's fear gas, that's why he's terrified. It must be bringing up some bad memories." Wilson paused. "And I may have used a modified version of this on him once before."

_"What?"_

It hit Damian all at once. Grayson had known; he had known since he walked in through the doors of the manor this evening that Wilson had backstabbed them. But he also knew that he wouldn't be able to get out alive without Wilson's assistance. Why did it take so long for Damian to figure it out? He was, after all, more suspicious of Wilson than Grayson had been. What did the negotiation with Matar entail? Possibly to exchange Batman and Robin for the woman.

What made Wilson change his mind?

It had to be the woman. How terribly cliché.

"Damian, I want all of us to get out of here alive as much as you do," Wilson snapped. "If I hadn't changed my mind Dick would be dead. So shut up and help me."

If Grayson died, then would it be prudent to put him in the Pit? Damian glanced at the bubbling water. Grayson had expressed reluctance to use the Pit, even for Ms. Kane. Perhaps he would be angry once he was revived.

"Keep an eye on the Lazarus Pit," Wilson said. "I'm going to try to help Dick."

 _"What can you possibly do?"_ Damian shouted. "You'll only make it worse!"

"He has the ability to overcome the gas. My first priority is to take care of that bullet, since you can't do that yourself!"

Damian's jaw clicked shut. Deathstroke was right: he didn't have the correct medical training to take care of Grayson. Why didn't his mother train him how to take care of people? Why was he so useless?

"Why didn't you help me?"

A girl's voice. Damian froze and turned his head slowly, uncertain of what he was about to see.

The girl whom he attempted to save on the train stood before him, dressed completely in white. Even in the dim light he noticed her strange sea-green eyes, which stood out in her tanned face. What was her name again? Nada.

_Scarecrow's gas.This is an illusion. This is not real._

"Damian?" Wilson's voice sounded far away. Damian ignored him, his eyes glued to the girl.

"You're not real," Damian said, backing away.

"I was very real," she replied, gliding towards him.

Somehow she seemed more beautiful than he remembered. What made it so? Her unearthly pallor? Her white attire? Her other-worldly beauty did nothing to calm him. Blood began to trail down her face.

"You let me die, Damian!" she screamed. "And now you're going to allow him to die as well!"

She jabbed a finger to Dick, who was still sobbing in his corner. Even Wilson knelt on the rocky floor, shouting something incomprehensible. What terrible images could possibly be playing in his mind?

 _"He will not die!"_ Damian snapped. _"I will not allow it!"_

Not again. Never again would he allow a civilian to die.

He had no other choice. Damian pulled out his communicator and flipped it open, his fingers fumbling.

 _Please work,_ he thought desperately. _Please respond._

"Damian," his mother said, mildly interested. "How nice to hear from you again. How is your circus boy?"

"Mother," he replied, trying to calm himself, "I am in a Lazarus Pit."

"And why, pray, are you at the Lazarus Pit?"

How could he explain? The Pits were for Grand-father's use only. Groveling was the only way to save them. Things got worse because he made a poor decision. Grayson was unfit for the role, Damian should have done something to stop the bullet. He should have picked up the gun and shot the man responsible.

"One of my companions is dying," Damian said. "Please, mother, stop the gas!"

"It's automatic, you know that."

 _How could I forget?_ Damian asked himself. _I should have disabled the Pit's defenses, but we needed to get here quickly. I cannot allow Ms. Kane to die after all the time we spent searching for her..._

"Mother, this is a matter of life and death!"

Damian began to cough as the air became saturated with the gas. It was only a matter of time before he would pass out as well.

 _"MOTHER!"_ Damian screamed. _"HELP US! PLEASE!"_

Horrible images burned into the back of his eyelids. If Talia did reply to his message, then Damian couldn't hear it. He dropped his communicator and wrapped his arms around his head.

Something rose from the pool. As Adeline Kane raised from the dead, her back arched, her unearthly wail keeping time with their screams, Damian found himself too terrified to speak. Vomit bubbled at the back of his throat.

He was barely aware of the fact that Wilson had collapsed as well, though what images flitted through his mind Damian would never know. He didn't care to know. He was only aware of the blood pounding through his ears and of the little girl's ghost, who stood over him and continued to plague him with her pleads to help.

"Please... Mother.. help us."


	16. Legacies

"You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but A Sadness in their lives, and you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile."

The Fault in Our Stars, John Green.

* * *

 

 

**-DG-**

**al Ghul Residence**

**Qurac**

_Memories drowned him in sorrow._

_Shards of pain shot through Dick as he lay on the rooftop, rain pelting down on him, blood seeping through the gashes of his Nightwing uniform. His chest heaved._

_Someone straddled him, speaking softly to him, her hand on his chest._

_What was she doing? "Catalina, don't... touch... me..."_

_"Shh, Querido. Everything will be all right."_

His eyes snapped open. Where was he? What was going on?

"Catalina? Who's she?"

That definitely _wasn't_ Catalina's voice. An older woman sat on the bed, looking at him curiously, her hand on his chest. Her long, dark hair framed a hard, pretty face that he recognized instantly.

Talia al Ghul.

He jerked his hands, as though he meant to attack her, but large, padded cuffs locked him to the bed. She lifted her hand away from his chest and looked at him, her face impassive. A small sliver of sunlight fell across his face. His entire body felt stiff. There were bandages wrapped around his torso. Plastic nubbins were hooked into his nose.

"Relax," she said, "the fear gas is still being filtered from your system. You'll continue to experience mild hallucinations for the next few hours."

Retinal echoes of past memories flitted by. The ghosts of his parents smiled at him. Bruce dressed in a martial arts uniform. His gaze darted about the room before resting on Talia again.

"What am I doing here?"

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, Mr. Grayson. My son pleaded for me to save your life. Don't make me regret it."

Dick didn't need to ask what had happened in the Lazarus Pit. While his memories of the Pit were hazy, he remembered the fear gas. Once he'd sniffed the air, he knew exactly what it was. When he was still with the Titans as Nightwing, Slade had intentionally used a modified version of Scarecrow's fear gas to throw him off his trail.

_"If the Titans are so distracting…"Slade said, lifting his wrist with the controller. "Maybe I should just get rid of them."_

_…._

_..._

_A large hand wrapped around his throat, tightening painfully around his windpipe until Dick stopped thrashing._

_For a moment Dick thought Slade was going to kill him._

His breathing quickened as he tried to will those memories away.

"Scarecrow's fear gas is strong, isn't it?" She smiled.

"It's more potent. What did you do to it?"

"Most people who attempt to break into the Lazarus Pit are our enemies. Some already have a resistance to Scarecrow's gas, such as yourself."

"And you want your enemies alive."

"Alive long enough for us to interrogate them." She gazed at him steadily. "Do I remind you of someone unpleasant?"

 _You_ are _unpleasant,_ he thought. Provoking her would get him nowhere, though. But something about Talia had reminded him of Catalina. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was—maybe he was going crazy.

Nothing had happened between him and Catalina, although people always asked if something had. He had pushed her off before she did anything, made it clear that he didn't want to be with her, but the incident on the rooftop still shook him all the same.

If there was anything— _anything_ —positive that he had learned from Slade, it was learning how to stop people from psychologically messing with him. Maybe Catalina had been different because she was a woman, because she was on his side at the time, or because she spoke kind words, but in the end she was just as bad as any other villain.

He mentally shook himself. Why was he dwelling on his bad days in Blüdhaven? They were behind him.

"I do remind you of someone, don't I?" She grabbed his chin, examining his bruised face. "How very interesting."

Sudden goosebumps riddled his skin.

"Don't touch me," Dick growled.

Talia straightened. "I see."

To Dick's relief, she moved away from him. He tested his bonds again. Although Talia had done nothing to harm him—yet—he wanted nothing more than to hit her. If she really was on his side then there was no reason to tie him down.

"You won't be able to escape," she said. "Those cuffs are for your own protection. While you were under Scarecrow's gas you injured yourself, as well as Wilson."

She moved to examine the IV drip, gently squeezing the bag. "Tell me, what else did you see in the Pit? I can only imagine that Deathstroke's presence amplified your terror."

"That's none of your business."

Dr. Crane's gas had an uncanny way of digging into the deepest, darkest corner of your mind. Learning how to tuck away the pain and sorrow he had felt all those years ago was a continual struggle. The fear gas simply broke down those mental barriers and allowed the emotions to flow through.

"Why work alongside him if you fear him so much?"

Dick ground his teeth together. "Is this an interrogation?"

"We mean you no harm. For now, you are a guest. Appreciate the fact that we could have left you to rot in the Pit."

Nothing seemed right about this. He could expect this from Ra's—maybe. But from Talia? Hmm. Judging from previous encounters with the al Ghuls, Dick knew that they wouldn't have helped unless they wanted something in return.

"Can I see Damian?"

She gazed at Dick steadily. "My father would like to meet with you first."

"Good. Maybe I'll get more answers."

He had dealt with Ra's before. Not exactly good guy material, but it was possible to work with him if you were polite and rational. Yeesh, not like he wanted to, though. Admitting that they broke into Ra's' Lazarus Pit wasn't a great way to start off a conversation.

"My medical staff will be in here shortly to assess your condition." She smirked. "Be good."

She did not bother to uncuff as she left him there, exposed to his memories.

**-SW-**

**al Ghul Residence**

He had no choice but to wait for Ra's to speak with him. Slade waited in Ra's' study, though he wasn't looking forward to this reunion. Alcohol burned his throat as he tilted his head back and swallowed his drink.

After bothering the staff for two days he finally was able to get a report on Dick's condition. The kid wouldn't die, but he came in bad shape. Addie had to be restrained, but she recovered quickly, having been revived by the Lazarus Pit.

After waking up in the infirmary, Slade hadn't seen anyone else who was at the Pit. Talia explained that Damian had called for help, but that was it. While no one explicitly said that he was a prisoner, he felt like one.

 _Maybe now I'll get some answers,_ he thought.

At least his room had a good supply of alcohol. The door opened.

"I understand now what you planned to do from the beginning, Ra's."

He should have seen it coming. Of course Ra's would enact measures to ensure that Damian arrived here.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be holding the title of 'world's greatest tactician,' Slade."

"Not that it matters," Slade replied, shrugging. "I intended to fulfill my contract."

"You didn't follow the plan."

"I do things my own way. You should have taken that into account before hiring me. So why did you?"

Honestly, did Ra's expect Slade to cooperate with everything? Even Slade wasn't stupid enough to assume that Dick would cooperate with him.

"I could have given Bruce Wayne the information he needed to rescue his ward ten years ago," said Ra's. "But I didn't. It was only fair that you returned the favor."

"Your grand-son already left you. As I said before: I don't recommend a re-match if he has Dick by his side."

"I hired you because of your knowledge of Richard," Ra's said. "You failed to separate them before coming here."

The task seemed easy enough at first. Although Slade knew that he had ultimately failed to sever the bond between Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, he assumed that Damian Wayne would prove a more malleable subject. Not so.

"He is the product of a perfect union: the al Ghul and Wayne bloodlines," continued Ra's. "I dared to go further than you ever did. My daughter produced the perfect heir while you were content with something... second-best."

"I never complained. Dick's competent as Batman. Don't underestimate him, and don't underestimate Damian either."

God, how did he get into this mess? Even when Slade refused to turn Batman and Robin over the al Ghuls somehow managed to twist the situation to their advantage. Damian had come here of his own free will; he had even begged for his mother's help.

"You are a hypocrite, Slade Wilson." Addie stood slumped against the doorway. Dark bags hung below her eyes, but other than her visible weariness she looked well. "Have you grown bored of us yet, Ra's?"

"Please have a seat, Ms. Kane."

She didn't sit down. A wave of sudden affection washed over Slade. She didn't bow to anyone's will, not even the great Ra's al Ghul. Truly a remarkable woman.

"Both of you know that I wasn't a fan of this plan from the beginning." She glared at Ra's. "You killed my team."

"They are inconsequential."

"Will those deaths be justified?" she demanded. "I can never replace those men. Most were my friends."

"Your life is expendable as well in the grand scheme of things, Ms. Kane. But like I said at dinner the other night: you are an under-appreciated woman. Deathstroke doesn't give you enough credit."

"I don't care if I'm Wonder Woman. I've never looked for credit, and I don't care for any. I swore to protect my country, and in doing so that means I protect the children who live there."

"He is my grandson."

"I don't care who you are, al Ghul. You have no excuse for endangering a child and his mentor."

Back when Jackal had threatened Joey's life, Addie had groveled to the terrorist, begged him to spare their son's life. Addie did nothing of the sort here.

"Be that as it may, you cannot stop this."

She ignored him and turned back to Slade. "I have a lot to talk about with Slade."

"I shan't get in your way, then." Ra's turned to leave the room. "I have things to discuss with Grayson anyway."

**-RaG-**

**al Ghul Household**

**Qurac**

Ra's didn't care what Slade planned to do after Damian defected back to the al Ghul clan. It was inconsequential. He walked away from Slade's room towards his study. A servant hurried towards him.

"Sir," he said, "Timothy Drake requests your presence."

Ah yes. The third Robin. "I'll be there in a moment. Make it clear that he only has five minutes of my time."

A long time ago, Ra's had considered Bruce Wayne to be the perfect heir. With him gone, only his sons remained. Richard Grayson, while hardly the man Wayne had been, was still a force to be reckoned with. Timothy, however... he was more like the Detective than any other Robin.

While Ra's held a certain amount of respect for Timothy, he was certainly not the Detective. Richard was not either, although that wasn't to say he hadn't been effective as Batman. Just not as effective as Bruce Wayne.

Ra's walked into his study, where Timothy awaited him on the webcam. He sat down and studied the young man through the screen, placing his fingertips together.

"What do you require of me, Timothy?"

"We just heard from Jason Todd that you're responsible for the attacks that are about to happen in Gotham."

"Jason is a compulsive liar. Check your facts."

"I have, and Jason isn't lying." Timothy leaned forward in his chair, trying to make himself look more like Batman." I also heard that you have Dick in custody. If so, where is he?"

"Unfortunately, Timothy, Richard is unavailable. He was shot and is in recovery."

"He was shot?" Timothy's pale face grew even paler. "By whom? Is he okay?"

"I didn't bother to check."

"Are you holding him hostage?" Timothy demanded suddenly. "Does he have something to do with the attacks?"

"Figure that out yourself. What's done is done. The attacks will be suspended, but not because of you," replied Ra's. "Your pleading does not influence me in the least. Whether or not my men will attack is up to Richard and Damian. I suggest you learn some manners before you call me again."

"But—"

Ra's turned off the device. He was certain that the young detective would call him again, but Ra's would block him. While speaking with the young man offered stimulating conversation at times, there was no point wasting time.

"I will receive Grayson in my study," Ra's told another servant. "Bring him to me. I'm certain he's anxious to meet."

Ra's' talk with Wilson had done nothing to deter him. If there was one last chance Damian could be persuaded to join the al Ghuls, then Ra's was willing to take it. And if Damian didn't, then Ra's would have blown a gigantic hole in the Bat Family's pride. That in itself would help him accomplish his goals.

Dressed in a white _thawb_ that belonged to one of the servants, Richard walked in, visibly limping.

"Ah, Richard. Please have a seat." He gestured towards an armchair.

Hesitantly, Richard sat down and watched Ra's pour him a cup of tea. He could have been in worse condition. The younger man's hands shook slightly as he accepted the cup, though he did not drink from it. Had the fear gas been filtered entirely from his system yet?

"Don't trust me?" Ra's asked pleasantly. "I'm not surprised."

"Care to explain why I'm here?"

"My grandson called for help. We responded."

"I see."

He just sat there, staring into the tea cupped in his hands.

"Why were you working with Wilson?" Ra's asked.

"That's none of your business."

"You hate him."

"Like I said: none of your business."

"Of course. I simply want to understand why my grandson is associating himself with Deathstroke. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm certain that you disliked working with Deathstroke in the past."

"I did." Richard spoke quietly, as though he did not wish to speak of it.

"So why work with him now?"

"I'd prefer not to be interrogated." Richard's voice rose. "Why do you care? You've never cared. You made that clear ten years ago."

Ah yes. That one strained night. Ra's had been one of the first villains to know that Richard had been Deathstroke's apprentice.

"That night I had the opportunity to reveal your whereabouts to the Detective," Ra's said.

"And you never told Bruce where I was?"

"I must never allow sentiment to cloud my judgment... often."

"But you could have let Bruce know where I was?"

"Richard," Ra's said, holding up a hand, "what's done is done. I had my own agenda to deal with at the time, and you were certainly not my top priority."

A distracted Bruce Wayne had allowed Ra's to complete his plans. Of course, the Detective had interfered, but the personal threat to Richard took priority. Damian had been born a few months after Richard had returned home, though of course no one knew about the boy's existence until recently.

"That doesn't matter anyway," Richard said. "Damian matters. We need to leave as soon as possible."

Ra's said nothing for a moment. Had Richard figured it out yet? Perhaps he needed more clues. "Damian is staying with us."

"What?"

"Do not interfere with us or you will be killed." Ra's stood up, towering over the young detective. "My daughter will not hesitate to eliminate you. I will be happy to escort you out with Wilson and Kane once you have recovered fully."

If the Detective was truly dead, as Ra's believed, then the least Ra's could do was allow his adopted child to live. Unless, of course, he refused to cooperate.

"I made a promise to Bruce that I would protect him!"

"And you have done so, but his apprenticeship with you is done. He will be back with his family."

"No."

Ra's raised an eyebrow as Richard rose, his fists clenched.

"It's not an apprenticeship. I will never think of Damian that way!"

"Have I hurt your feelings?" Ra's shrugged. "I thought you had manners, unlike your successor. You can be pleasant when you want to."

As Richard raised his fist, he suddenly crumpled, the bullet wound flaring up again. There was a reason why Ra's hadn't wanted to see Richard after he was completely healed.

"You are in no shape to harm me." Ra's pushed the button on his walkie-talkie. "Guards, I require assistance with Mr. Grayson."

Guards immediately flooded the room and began to restrain him. Injured, with no hope of victory. How sad. There was a reason why Ra's considered Richard second-best to the Detective. Richard's struggling ceased as two guards forced his arms behind his back. "Ra's, please, don't do this! Kill me if you want, but let your grandson choose the life he wants to live!"

Ra's paused. He turned and stared straight into Richard's face, his eyes narrowed. "Batman does not beg." Ra's frowned. "If you attempt to disrupt my daughter's plans, then you will join your mentor in death. You are excused, Mr. Grayson."

**-AK-**

**al Ghul Household**

**Qurac**

Addie's attention was now completely fixed on Slade, her hands on her hips.

"Why did you agree to help? Regardless of the child's background... I thought you were a better man than this, Slade Wilson."

"Even though I'm a mercenary?" Slade looked to the side. "It's complicated. Regardless of everything that's happened, I can't deny Talia her son. He should be with her anyway, since Wayne is gone."

"You're beginning to believe your own bullcrap. How sad. I know you'd never hurt a child. Grayson was an exception, I'm sure, but a ten-year-old? Slade, Damian left the al Ghuls for a reason. He didn't want that kind of life anymore."

"I didn't have a choice," Slade replied softly, aware of his impeccable logical fallacies.

"I would have gladly attempted to escape myself if it meant the safety of a child! And don't tell me he _isn't_ a child because of his upbringing."

Slade was smart, but he justified his actions with the worst logic she had ever encountered. Grayson's background as an orphan, as a protege of the Dark Knight, and as the leader of the Titans were all excuses to treat him like crap in the name of legacy.

"You're going to hate me for saying this, but sometimes children get hurt. He's just stuck in the crossfire between the Bats and the al Ghuls, just as Joey was stuck between me and Jackal."

What a load of bullcrap!

"And there's a reason why I have custody of Joey!" Addie snapped. "Rose should have been left in Will's care, not yours."

"Why do you even care about Rose? She's not your daughter."

"But she's yours. And she could have had a better life if you didn't _warp_ her into an assassin."

"You almost lost custody of the kids when you tried to kill me!"

Her jaw snapped shut. It was true. Explaining the incident to the lawyers... well, that had been an adventure. "At least they had the sense to give the kids to me in the end."

"Whatever. This has nothing to do with the kids—" he began.

"Don't lie. It's always been about the kids. However screwed-up your methods are, I know you mean well, but you need to stay away from them."

His shoulders tensed; his eye narrowed. If she wasn't who she was, would he have hit her? He looked so mad. He had never verbally or physically abused her; in fact, the idea seemed quite foreign to him. So why in God's name did he turn around and hurt other people?

"I tried to fix it," he said quietly.

"Just because you tried to betray Ra's doesn't make any of this better. You should have told Dick from the beginning what Talia was trying to do."

"Every time I thought about it, the al Ghuls threatened to kill you!"

"And you think I care about that?"

"Yes! I do!"

She picked up a nearby vase and threw it at him. He dodged it easily. Addie didn't know why she felt the need to throw it—she wasn't going to hit him, and she knew it. But it felt better to do something other than stand there shouting. Slade had never been a man of words, only of action. Unless something blew up in his face, he wouldn't understand.

"Your lectures aren't making the situation better!" Slade shouted. "Quit throwing things!"

For once she wasn't trying to kill him. But what good would it do now? She knew that she had only been a tool, bait for Slade, and she hated it.

Thanks to the Lazarus Pit, she felt stronger than she ever had before. She rushed at him, throwing fast punches and kicks. He danced around her, on the defensive, waiting until she tired out.

He grabbed her wrist. "Stop it."

After a few frantic struggles to free herself, Addie stopped, grimacing in defeat. Brute strength somehow always won in the end. Defeating Slade had been easy when he had been a younger man, more stupid, she could say. They stared resolutely at each other, silently daring to strike back.

Why did she have such a bad habit of picking up terrible men? He let go of here. She allowed her arm to fall to her side, her anger dissipating.

"I gave up trying to kill you a long time ago, Slade. Every time I try to cut you away from my life you keep coming back. You should apologize to Grayson yourself... if you are even capable of that."

 _Admit that you're wrong, Slade. Come on, it's not that hard._ From what she understood, he had never really apologized for the horrible things he'd done, even when he was sorry.

"Will you come back to the States with me, Addie?"

"Not until you've made things right."

His jaw clenched. "You know I can't do that now—"

"Then make a contract with me. I'm not flattered that you did all this for me. You can fix it, Slade. I'll... I'll help you."

She shut her eyes tightly as she took his hand and squeezed it. Addie was well aware that he was still in love with her; perhaps she was still in love herself. If she was, she certainly couldn't feel it. He made no move to embrace her. They just stood there, awkward in each other's company.

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Household**

**Qurac**

Damian sat at a long, nearly empty table, playing idly with his food. His mother sat across from him.

She never ate dinner with him. This in itself was odd.

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked. "You haven't have a solid meal in a week."

"We are on a mission. The quality of the food is sometimes inversely proportional to the success of the mission."

"I see you've learned much from Grayson."

 _"TT._ He is an adequate teacher." Damian looked up at his mother. "Is he healed?"

"He's still in recovery."

He stabbed his meal with his fork, not very hungry at all. Having seen Wilson and his woman up and about, Damian knew that they had recovered, but Grayson still hadn't woken up. It was only one bullet. Mother had the best medical technology in the world. Grayson would be fine.

"Perhaps you should prepare yourself for the worst," Talia said slowly. "There is always the possibility that he will not recover."

Damian dropped his fork. "It was only a single bullet."

 _"Habibi,_ he is human. And you should know that a single bullet can kill. The League of Assassins taught you how."

"But I saw the wound! It is something that he can survive."

"The fear gas must have made you delusional. He lost a lot of blood."

A servant came by and placed something in front of him. Damian's stomach turned at the sight of baklava. He pushed the plate away. "May I see him?"

"Not soon."

"Why?"

Her dark eyes narrowed. "It is not just the bullet wound that weakened him. He is not as mentally strong as your father was. The fear gas we used to rig the Lazarus Pit strongly affected him."

Well, that was true. He had assumed that Grayson's wound made him more susceptible to the gas. It was not his fault.

"Can I see him anyway?"

"The doctors will let you know when Grayson is well enough to see you." She stood up and snapped her fingers at a nearby servant. "I have a schedule to keep, Damian. We'll talk later this evening with your grand-father."

Perhaps a meeting with Wilson was in order. There was nothing to do here anyway, unless he wanted to work out in the gym.

 _TT. At least Lian Harper isn't here to make me play house with her._ Yet even amongst the servants and guards, he found himself quite alone.


	17. The Eye of the Storm

**-DG-**

**al Ghul Residence**

**Qurac**

Despite his constant pleadings, no one came to talk to Dick.

Although the last of Scarecrow's fear gas had left his system, he still felt paranoid and helpless. He didn't know what was going on. Being locked in this room, without any sort of contact with the outside world, was horrible. He spent most of his time trying to find a way out, or at least some way of communicating with Damian.

Eventually, he stopped trying to break out. His bullet wound still hurt, and it was clear that he had sustained other injuries from fighting. Some internal bleeding,contusions, a possible concussion, all the usual in the life of a superhero. Dick sat down slowly on his bed with a groan. He was in no shape to attack the al Ghuls, and they knew it.

_They can't make him stay,_ Dick thought. _And they're keeping me here so I can't talk him out of it._

The door opened. He looked up, expecting to see another servant or a doctor, but found Adeline Kane standing there. Although Ms. Kane wasn't the person he wanted to see, Dick had to admit that she was better than the cold servants who kept him locked in this room. Or Slade, for that matter.

"Ms. Kane!" He tried to stand up, but the pain in his side forced him back down. "Am I glad to see you."

"Please, don't call me that. Adeline is fine. Sit down, you shouldn't be moving too much."

"How's Damian? Have you seen him?"

"He seems fine. You're the one everybody's worried about." She gestured towards his wound. "How are you feeling?"

"I won't be working the trapezes anytime soon, but I'll live."

The more he thought about it, the more Dick realized that he had trivialized the bullet wound. If Slade hadn't pumped him full of painkillers, maybe Dick would have realized that he was dying. He had been shot before, but it hurt every single time.

"Look, I know we don't know each other well, but we do need to talk. You know what Slade did, don't you?"

"I realized that he double-crossed us just a few minutes before we tried to rescue you. Slade bungled it. You weren't supposed to be shot, were you?"

"No."

The bed dipped down as she sat next to him. Though she seemed a little standoffish at times, she was a good woman. Joey definitely took after her.

"I'm sorry he tricked you again," she said.

"Don't feel as though you need to apologize for him," Dick replied. "Even I felt the same way. Hah, I should make it a drinking game: 'Who's been personally victimized by Slade Wilson?"

A small smile broke her face. "You're all right, Dick."

"As are you, Adeline." Dick opened his mouth, but closed it.

"What is it?"

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you marry Slade in the first place?"

Dick didn't expect an answer. It was an intensely personal question, but he had to know. He could see why someone would trust Slade, love Slade, but it still baffled him. Part of him still wanted to understand the mercenary.

"Love does strange things to people. It makes us blind. There was no way I could have foreseen what Slade would become. I blamed myself for a long time. Why didn't I figure it out? Why couldn't I stop it?"

Truth be told, Dick hadn't thought much about Slade until recently, when Slade broke into Wayne Tower. Ten years was long enough to meditate on his mistakes. Even now, after all that had happened with Damian, Dick knew that he couldn't afford to dwell on his mistakes. They only weighed him down. He couldn't dismiss them—he needed to take responsibility—but he had to have the self-esteem to keep going and believe in himself.

"I know I'm not the only person Slade has hurt," Dick said. "I think we all feel the same way, but we can't linger on what we didn't do."

"Why did you agree to help him rescue me?" she asked.

Well, she answered his question. It was only fair he answered one of hers.

"Joe's one of my best friends. I know how much you mean to him. Will's been kind to me in the past. Your family doesn't need any more grief."

He knew that the al Ghuls had manipulated Slade into bringing Batman and Robin to Qurac. But there wasn't any point being mad about it now. Later he would have time to beat the crap out of Slade for this. Maybe that was why Adeline came in to talk instead of Slade.

"Thank you, Dick. Despite what's happened, I am glad that you tried."

She smiled a kind smile, one that reminded Dick of his own mother. There was a lot she failed to speak about, and her silence told volumes. Dick could tell she hadn't liked Slade's plan to betray them, and that it hurt her to know she played a part.

"I'm not certain what the al Ghuls plan to do with you," she continued. "You know what's happening, right?"

"They're going to take Damian away. I can't sit back and allow them to do that."

"You may not have a choice. They expect you to let Damian go in exchange for your life."

Were Slade and Adeline planning something? If so, she mentioned nothing.

"The al Ghuls want me to inform you that will leave with us," she said finally, loud enough for the guards to hear. "In two days. You need to be well enough to travel."

_I'm not going anywhere without Damian_ , Dick thought savagely. "Will I be able to see Damian before I go?"

"I don't know."

No one could hold him back from the people he loved. Not even Slade with his nanobots. If Dick had to wait months, then he would do it. Waiting wasn't the problem.

There were so many things they had yet to do. Even though Damian wasn't Dick's kid, he might as well be. Who else did Damian have besides the al Ghuls? They wouldn't ever give him the life he deserved, the choice to make his own mistakes. That's what growing up was all about, right? Making mistakes and learning from them.

"I'll try to speak with him," Addie said. "Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

Dick thought a moment. Maybe Damian was already aware of what his mother wanted him to do. Maybe he was seriously considering staying here. After all, why stay with an incompetent Batman?

"Yes, there is something he needs to hear."

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

He yanked on the sleeves of one of the passing doctors.

"Where is Grayson?" Damian demanded. "I have not seen him for three days."

"Don't bother him."

Why was no one answering his questions? They knew who he was, yet they still denied him information!

"I demand to see him!"

"We have orders to keep him isolated until he recovers. We'll let you know when you can see him." He sounded irritated.

Damian said nothing as he watched the doctor walk away. There was so much that they didn't understand. Grayson's fragile mind could not bear being away from people. Some psychological aspect of Grayson's character made him recover faster if someone was there to make him feel better.

Since they weren't allowing him to visit until Grayson had recovered, Damian made his way towards the gym, intending to vent his frustration through a punching bag. He would have to think of a plan later to contact Grayson. The faster he recovered the faster they could leave the al Ghul residence.

_It was necessary to call my mother,_ he told himself. _Only she and Grand-Father had the clearance to override the security system in the Pit._

The door to the gym slid open. As he stepped inside he bumped into a woman. He looked up and found Slade's woman staring down at him, her expression impassive.

_Adeline Kane,_ Damian corrected himself. It seemed as though she had recovered, though her dip in the Lazarus Pit may have done the most work.

"Excuse me," Damian said, stepping aside to let her pass. He had no desire to interact with her.

He spotted Wilson on the other side of the gym.

"Hello, Wayne," Wilson said, waving.

"What do you want?" Damian demanded.

"Care for a spar?"

"And why would I want to spar with you?"

"You're bored. I'm also certain you want a re-match."

Damian chose his weapon: a bo-staff. Better to train with a different weapon. A non-lethal weapon. Back in Istanbul Wilson had defeated him when Damian tried to attack. Of course Damian wanted a re-match.

"I have every right to hate you, Wilson."

"Indeed you do. I'm assuming that Dick's filled your head with all sorts of crap."

"He's been right so far. He may be irritating, but he's trustworthy."

Damian's grip on his staff tightened as he readied himself to attack. To defeat someone much larger and stronger, Damian needed to change tactics. He couldn't charge forward and hope for the best. He had already tried that once. He would not be fooled by Wilson again.

"Have you seen Grayson?" Damian asked. "He is recovering slowly. This is not acceptable."

"You ever been shot? It hurts like hell."

Talia's words echoed in Damian's mind. What if Grayson had died and no one informed him? No. He brushed that thought away. Of course his mother would inform him. Conversation ceased as they sparred, Wilson becoming increasingly aggressive.

"Very good." Wilson took a step back and allowed his staff to fall to his side. "Your movements are very controlled, very precise."

"I don't need praise from you."

"It's not praise, just an observation."

They began to circle each other. Grayson had warned him of Wilson's false praise. How was it possible that this one-eyed creep could charm people?

"Why did you do it?" Damian asked. "Force him to become your apprentice?"

"To pass on the legacy, from mentor-to-apprentice. It's one of the oldest traditions in human history."

What a lazy answer. Damian didn't care about the history of apprenticeships. That was something he could research on Google.

"Why Grayson?" Damian repeated.

"Do I have to repeat my lecture to everyone?" Slade rolled his eye. "It's gotten tiring. Maybe I should write a book. Think of it: Slade Wilson, the Memoir."

Damian made a face. "Where do I even begin?"

Less talking, more fighting. Their wooden staffs clashed as they attacked one another. The bout ended several seconds later in a stand-off, both of their staffs making body contact.

"Oh, you're good, Damian, but there are things Dick can teach you."

"And what could he possibly teach me?"

"How to have a sense of humor." Wilson tripped him with the staff. "You're a robot, Damian."

Damian's teeth clattered as he fell to the floor. A robot? What did he mean? Damian's brow furrowed as he considered Wilson's words.

An amused expression crossed Wilson's face. "Do metaphors still elude you?"

"I know what you mean, Wilson." Damian pushed himself to his feet. _TT._ A sense of humor. What good would a sense of humor be in a fight? It was a waste of breath.

"I don't think I've heard you quip once," Wilson replied. "Don't you know it's part of the job?"

"Quips are stupid." _Insults are better._

"While I admire your attitude, it will get you in trouble."

"Why?"

"You're too driven for a ten-year-old."

"You're the one who found an apprentice in a sixteen-year-old."

"That's different."

Damian picked up his staff and stabbed Wilson, who grabbed the staff and held it still. Once Damian realized that he couldn't tug the staff away he sneered at the mercenary.

"I could kill you a thousand different ways, Wilson."

"I'd like to see you try."

Wilson ripped the staff away from Damian's hands. Before Damian realized what was happening, he felt the staffs crossed at his throat. With the right amount of pressure, Wilson could still kill him. Damian raised his hands. This was defeat.

"You know when to back off from a fight, I'll give you that much." Wilson lowered the staffs and dropped them to the floor. "Dick never learned, but I suppose that's why he won, in the end."

"So you are not sorry that Grayson left?"

"In retrospect, you learn how to let go. Forge new alliances, new hatreds. Life goes on, chum. Sometimes it's best not to hold grudges."

Grayson had received master status as an assassin, but he chose not to use that training. He had no choice in the matter, just as Damian had, but he had managed to walk away. Sure, Damian had walked away from his mother before, but she hadn't forced him to stay.

_I didn't want to choose between my mother and father. That was all I wanted. That's why I left._

"He's a good teacher. I know he is," Wilson said. "He's passing on the legacy to you. He understands what I was trying to do, and one day you'll understand as well."

A thought occurred to Damian: Grayson had laid aside everything for his friends. He had been willing to put his life, his happiness, his freedom on the line for them. Somehow, Wilson had found it within him to allow Grayson to leave. All because of legacy? People were irrational.

"Damian!" Talia strode into the room, his grand-father following behind her. "Come. We have something to discuss with you."

"Coming, Mother." Damian placed the staff back on its stand.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Maybe it isn't my place to say, Damian, but talking back to your family is harder than talking back to your enemies," Wilson said. "I know how your grand-father works. Be careful."

Be careful? He knew how to speak to his own mother and grand-father, even if he hadn't met his mother until he was eight. Whatever they wished to speak to him about would be inconsequential. Once Grayson recovered, then Damian would insist that they be allowed to leave at once.

**-JT-**

**Wayne Tower**

**Gotham City**

Jason and Stephanie sat on a rooftop, though Jason edged away from her. While his bullet wound still hurt, he didn't want to be stuck inside Wayne Tower. Being out on patrol reminded him of the good old days.

"From what I understand, the al Ghuls set up this elaborate plan to kidnap Damian," Jason said. "They wanted me to use my position in Gotham to make him go to Qurac."

"And how are you involved with the al Ghuls?" Brown demanded.

"Well... you could say that I got to know Talia real well after the whole 'let's raise Jason from the dead' pitch by Ra's."

Brown pulled a disgusted face.

"Hey, I'm not pulling crap out of my butt, Brown. It's the real deal."

"No wonder you're messed up."

"You know, I'd really rather hook up with Ravager than be here with you," Jason snapped.

"Nah, I don't think you want to. You'll rip each other to shreds."

"Fun times."

Timmy Tim had tried to contact Ra's a few days ago, and of course he had failed. The idiot. Even Jason knew not to mess with the al Ghuls.

And Brown was only half-right: Dick had been shot (no doubt the al Ghul's doing), but he wasn't dead. Yet. Who knew what the crap was going on over there? It didn't matter what everyone did over here. If Dick and Damian wanted to get out of there alive, then they were gonna have to do it themselves.

Jason knew the location of at least one of the hit men positioned in Gotham, and sometime later that night he would show her where. The al Ghuls had temporarily halted their attacks, but who's to say they wouldn't eat their words? Despite his differences with Brown, Jason also didn't want Gotham to be destroyed. This was his city as much as hers.

_And now we will wait. For what, though, I'd hate to find out._

**-SW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

"I spoke with Grayson this afternoon," Addie said, stepping into Slade's room. "He's in good shape, given his injuries."

"And...?"

"Oh, he's ready to knock your lights out."

"Isn't he always?" Slade shrugged. "I shouldn't expect anything less from him."

Dick wasn't one for murder, but he could do it if he was pissed enough.

"Did you relay Dick's message to Damian?" Addie asked.

"Yes, I did." Not that Slade thought it made any difference. Why couldn't Addie say it herself? Was it because, to some extent, Damian respected Slade?

"The al Ghuls are watching his every move," Slade said. "Our best chance to strike will have to be when Dick can leave. We need to let the al Ghuls believe that they're winning."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Dick has a daughter. I didn't know until I interrupted his conversation with her and the mother, the Tamaranean."

"How old?"

"A four-year-old."

Holy hell, Dick had a four-year-old. He sat on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath. Slade was getting old.

"He's on the verge of becoming a deadbeat. I just..." Slade squeezed his eye shut. "I don't want anyone to go through what I went through with the kids."

"Is that regret I hear?"

"I don't know."

With every kill, Slade understood that he killed a father, a brother, a son. Robbed the target of the life he could have had. If Dick still worked for Slade now, as was Slade's original intention, then that child wouldn't exist.

Maybe it reminded him that, had Grant been alive, Slade and Addie may already have grand-children. There was something oddly satisfying about the fact that Dick had started a family, had moved on. Slade couldn't quite explain it. But at the same time he resented Dick for it.

Kids always made Slade second-guess himself. _Little_ kids, not teenagers. While Slade would prefer not to hurt teenagers, he wasn't opposed to doing so if they interfered with his plans. He would go out of his way to avoid hurting little kids.

Slade wasn't out to rule the world, though he may have been a few years ago. Better to leave those tasks to creatures like Darkseid and Trigon. World domination just wasn't his thing anymore. Control of a city's criminal underground, however, was all he ever did in his spare time.

"Things can't be the same, you know," Addie said quietly. "All of the things you've done since we divorced... they are unforgivable."

"Well, aren't you judgmental."

"You know I'm right. You've done some pretty terrible things. And don't blame the super-soldier serum. Don't blame others. Blame yourself."

Things could have been different if he had been a little kinder, or maybe a little more ruthless. Who knew?

She knew that he wouldn't retire from his profession. Maybe Slade would eventually meet someone more ruthless and talented than he was, and finally bite it. This cycle of hate couldn't last forever. Over fifteen years had passed since the divorce, and she had lived with his existence.

Slade found his mind beginning to wander. He couldn't help but notice how well Addie had aged. There were signs that she wasn't a girl anymore—the crow's feet, the few gray hairs—but she was still a handsome woman. Did he want to pursue a relationship? What would it take to bring his family back together? Perhaps Addie had set the bar too high and was the reason why Slade could not find peace with any other woman.

He fought the urge to touch her, to hold her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay. Everything wasn't okay, at least not according to her standards.

"Are you going to talk to Grayson? We need his input if we're going to get him out of here alive."

"What?" Slade shook himself out of his trance. "I can try."

"Don't try. Just do it."

Talking reasonably to Dick after betraying him wouldn't be productive at all. Being as stubborn as he was, Dick wouldn't listen or believe Slade. Who could blame him?

"I have to go." Addie strode out of Slade's room, pausing at the doorway. "They may allow us to meet, but they have eyes watching us all the time."

_She's going to leave. God, say something, Wilson!_

"Addie..."

"What is it, Slade?"

She waited for him to say something, anything, but he couldn't do had said it a million times before, but saying it again now was so difficult. The door closed behind her. Maybe that little twerp was right: his love for Adeline was dragging him down. He should let it go.

Declaring his love would be redundant. There would be time later, when this was over.

_But that doesn't mean we're going to sit around and do nothing. We'll wait for the most opportune moment to strike back._


	18. A Compromise

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

His mother and grand-father received him in a study, far away from Wilson and Kane. And perhaps Grayson as well, if Damian even knew where he was. Talia sat down, crossed her legs and arranged her skirts. There was something very military about the way she moved, very cold and precise. His grand-father assumed his usual chair, somehow appearing more imposing than Damian remembered.

"I'd prefer if you not interact with Slade," Talia said. "He certainly has things he could teach you, but not now."

"Why would I want to be trained by him? He's a terrible person."

"Is he, now?" She sounded amused. "And why is that? Is it because Grayson told you?"

"No, of course not. Wilson defeated me in combat. Nothing more."

"That does not make him a terrible person. It just makes you weak."

Damian's hands scrunched into fists and glanced to the side. Grand-Father sat there silently, watching the scene unfold with calculated ease.

"What do you want?" Damian asked.

"Grayson will not live. Not unless you agree to re-join us."

Damian fought the urge to ask his mother to repeat herself. He had heard correctly.

"Do you understand?" his mother asked.

"Yes."

What did they expect him to do? Say no? His mother did not bother to explain the situation any further. She expected him to figure out the rest on his own.

"In time you will learn to let him go," Talia said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your father is dead. You're nothing but a burden to Grayson anyway. He has his own child to take care of."

"I'm not a burden!" Damian snapped. "I can take care of myself."

"You've proven otherwise."

Damian stood up straight and sucked air between his teeth. Talia stared steadily at him. "It's your decision, Damian. Though of course, if you truly are an al Ghul, then you will kill him anyway."

_Grayson would never kill. He would laugh in the face of danger._

Stupid Grayson with his stupid laugh and stupid puns and his stupid flips. Why did he have to get himself shot? Damian glanced towards his grand-father again. Why was he just sitting there, saying nothing? Didn't he have other things to do?

"As long as you let him go back home, then I will stay," Damian said." I only request that I oversee his departure."

Knowing his family, he would have to keep a close watch on everything they did. It would not be enough to trust their word. Talia straightened.

"So be it. Your circus boy will go home."

As he stood there, his face impassive, he realized something: it was not about Grayson, it was about him. Everything that had happened was because the al Ghuls wanted him back.

_I made mistakes. I chose to save people. I am unfit to inherit this empire._

But no matter how he may explain that to his mother, she would never listen. What did he have to do, dance around in his underwear to prove his unworthiness? Grayson would do that. He would do anything to save his friends.

"May I see him before he departs?"

"No." Grand-Father finally spoke. "You may only interact with Grayson once you are ready to take over as Batman. You will forcibly take control if he will not give the name to you."

I don't want to fight Grayson for the right to be Batman. Fighting for the cape-and-cowl wasn't how the legacy should be passed on. It wasn't right.

"You speak as if you own the title," Damian said. "You do not, Grand-Father."

Grand-Father was suddenly in front of him, his hand raised, filling Damian's entire vision as he glared at his grandson. Flinching, Damian waited for the blow. Having recently risen from the Pit a mere two months ago, Ra's had the physical ability of a man in his twenties.

"Of course," Ra's said, lowering his hand. "We are civilized. You are young and do not understand what it truly means to be an al Ghul."

He placed his hand on Damian's head instead. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture—Damian was sure of it—but Damian only felt worse. He was suddenly aware of the fact that Grand-Father had hurt hundreds of people, including Grayson.

"You are forgiven. For now." Ra's' hand moved to Damian's shoulder and squeezed it gently before he turned and strode away. "I'm certain you have enough inside information about the Bats to properly eliminate them, whenever it will be necessary."

 _Does this include Pennyworth?_ Damian thought.

"Your Robin costume will be destroyed," Talia said. "You are no longer second to Batman."

_But I never was second to Grayson. He treated me as an equal, as his partner._

He wanted so much to speak up, to yell and scream childishly against this unfair compromise. To kick and punch until the injustice of this all was fixed. But no one would listen to him. No matter how many times he assured the others that he was competent, they wouldn't listen to him because he was a child.

"You will be moved to a different facility tomorrow for training," Talia said. "To catch up. Grayson neglected to train you as an assassin. A pity, since he had the skills to do so."

"May I have a moment to consider this?" Damian asked, lowering his gaze. "Allow me to comprehend this fully before I go back to training."

"You won't get that chance in a fight, but yes, I will allow it. Father?"

Grand-Father nodded. Damian's relatives left the study, leaving him alone with his thoughts for a precious few minutes. He strode to the open window facing the eastern sky, his hands clasped behind his back.

If this was how it felt to be coerced for the life of one other, then how had Grayson felt when four of his friends were in danger?

As he stood by himself in his grand-father's study, he suddenly wanted to speak with Grayson. Not merely for the purpose of assessing his medical condition, but to apologize. He had treated Grayson unfairly, calling him weak and unskilled when it was obvious that he had neither of those qualities. Casting away someone in the midst of danger was the easy thing to do; protecting them took more effort, more skill. Everything Grayson had done was for a purpose, and it was far more than Damian had ever been willing to do as a hero.

"I understand now," he said quietly to himself.

**-SW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

From previous experience, Slade knew that Dick wouldn't be in the mood to negotiate. He would accuse—rightfully so— Slade of luring them to Qurac with the intention of turning Damian over to the al Ghuls.

_What will Damian chose to do?_

Everything depended on Damian. If Damian wanted to stay, then there was nothing Dick could do to persuade him to go.

But right now Dick's life was in danger. If Slade had his way, then he would leave Damian behind to save Dick. While it wasn't ideal, it was all a matter of priority. Dick stood in the al Ghuls' way, and Talia was going to get rid of him if he made the slightest squeak of protest. And knowing Dick as he did, Slade knew that Dick wouldn't go down without a fight.

_You're outnumbered, Wilson. Addie won't go back unless we bring the Dynamic Duo with us._

If Damian didn't take a stand, then everyone would go on their merry way. Which, in Slade's book, wouldn't be bad. Everyone would go home alive.

Slade had forgotten how infuriating Addie could be, how stubborn she was. It was a wonder they were getting along at all.

Slade looked around the hallway, searching for security cameras. While he had been allowed relative freedom, probably due to the fact that he helped all of this happen, he needed to be careful. As the al Ghuls had demonstrated the night of the Lazarus Pit, they could turn right back around and stab Slade in the back.

_Just like Luthor. Just like everyone else._

He grimaced. At least heroes were reliable: they tended not to backstab you. Even Dick, who had threatened to do it, had stepped down at the last minute. In another lifetime Slade may have called him a coward, but Dick had lived to fight another day.

 _Our best bet would be to get Damian to disrupt things from the inside,_ Slade thought. _Create a distraction._

But would Damian have the balls to stand up to his own grand-father? The great Ra's al Ghul? What he said to Damian in the gym—about standing up against family—was true. While the kid had an ego the size of a small country, it was rather easy to hurt him.

No, he wasn't going to talk to Dick. Slade couldn't trust him not to go berserk. Betraying Dick was one thing, but forcing him away from Damian would trigger him. Threatening Dick's family and friends always did that.

The al Ghuls controlled them all at the moment. Outsmarting them wasn't impossible, it was just damn hard to do.

To get Damian to rebel against his own family, Slade would need Dick. He would need the support of Dick's friends. When Slade had sparred with the child earlier, he could see all of Damian's insecurities. That child had no friends aside from Dick, and he did not believe that he could be friends with anyone. That no one would _want_ to be his friend.

Heh. Who would have thought that he, Slade Wilson, longtime enemy of the Teen Titans and the Justice League, would be using his skills to help Batman and Robin? Funny how time turned these things on their heads.

This better be worth it.

**-DG-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

Dick glanced around the room for some sort of weapon. He grabbed a lamp and yanked it out of its electrical socket. That would do. He spun around as the door opened, his face set as Talia entered the room.

"Don't move," Talia snapped. "You are not in a position to negotiate. Put it down now."

"Let me out." Dick's grip on the lamp tightened. "You've been keeping me a prisoner."

"And what if I have? Put the lamp down, or I will call in my guards to restrain you." Her eyes narrowed. "Now."

 _Choose your battles,_ Grayson.Hesitantly, he set the lamp back on the table. She smiled coldly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Answering her would be counter-productive. "What do you want?"

"As my father told you a few days ago, you are not to interfere with Damian's decision to stay here."

"That's not his decision. That's yours."

"This is your last warning, Grayson," Talia said. "Leave my son alone, or else you will pay the price."

Liar. He had already paid the price for his stupidity. He shouldn't have trusted Slade.

"You spent all that time fixing me up," Dick asked nervously, "when you were going to kill me anyway?"

"My father feels obliged to give you a fighting chance. Flawed as you are, you will be sufficient as Batman's replacement until Damian is old enough to fill the role."

"Some mother you are," Dick spat. "At least let him be with people who care about him."

She slapped him. He grabbed her wrist as she moved to hit him again, his arm shaking from the effort.

"If you cared, then you wouldn't hold him back," Talia said, twisting her wrist out of his grasp. "You would give him the training he deserves under Batman's tutelage. I only allowed it because I know who you are, Grayson. If you did not have the capacity for the ruthlessness you displayed as Deathstroke's apprentice, then I would have shot you the moment you took Damian. I see now that you're weak. Your emotions hold you back."

Talia twisted his arm behind his back and forced him to the ground. Fingers twitching, shoulder aching, Dick allowed his knees to buckle.

"I'm only human," he said softly.

She let go of his arm.

"I looked up Catalina Flores, Grayson. You have a history of being emotionally weak, far weaker than your mentor, and it's caused you trouble."

"Do you really think you're getting into my head?" Dick stood up. "Hit me all you want, Talia. Throw my history back at me. I don't care. I've already been through hell and back. Nothing you say can get to me."

She raised an eyebrow. "My Beloved was just as emotionally distraught as you had been when Damian was conceived."

It had never even occurred to Dick how Damian had been conceived. Bruce never gave him any details; not like Dick had expected him to. But if Talia had manipulated Bruce the same way Catalina had tried to manipulate him, then there were so many things wrong about this whole situation.

"But Bruce—"

"Our feelings were mutual."

While Dick would prefer not to hear about Bruce and Talia together, he couldn't help but feel morbidly fascinated. Everything seemed to click together. Sometime during those nine months he spent as Slade's apprentice, Bruce had gone out and slept with Talia.

"Our agents are poised in Gotham, ready to strike. If you still refuse to leave quietly, then we will unleash them. We intercepted your transmissions with Gotham. We know how you plan to defend your city. We could fool your mentor, so what makes you believe that you can outsmart us?"

Dick hung his head. Talia had saved his life, even if Slade set this all in motion. There would be another time to rescue Damian.

"May I see him before I go?"

"No."

"Talia, please..."

"Don't beg. It's unbecoming. Bruce would not beg."

"If it was my life on the line, or any one of his sidekicks, then he would."

Why was she pretending that she knew Bruce? Just because she slept with him didn't mean she understood how his mind worked. Dick understood him better than anyone else, except for Alfred. Dick knew how to make Bruce laugh, make him smile, make him be socially acceptable for once. It was only fair that he taught Bruce's son how to do the same.

"Unlike Deathstroke, I'm more than happy to torture you," she said. "But that would be a waste of time. You'll leave my property this evening. Alone."

 _You've been misinformed, Talia,_ Dick thought savagely. _He did torture me._

"I thought you said that I'll be leaving with Slade and Adeline?"

"You will meet them in another location. For now, you will be escorted by my guards."

The al Ghuls had gotten what they wanted. There was no point trying to convince them otherwise. Dick knew a lost fight when he saw one, but that didn't mean he wanted to back down.

"Cowards," Dick said quietly. "You have no right forcing a child to join you."

The fact that this was Damian's family made everything worse. It was harder to say no to your family than to an enemy.

"You better keep your mouth shut. It's gotten you in trouble."

"What can I say? It's part of my charm."

"It's time for you to leave." She snapped her fingers. Boy, that could get annoying fast. "Guards, escort him out."

The guards held his arms tightly behind his back. Despite the medical attention he had received, recovery would still take a while. Every step he took felt like fire stabbing his gut. They half-dragged him out into the corridor and down towards the main entrance. Part of him was grateful to get out of that accursed room.

Dick stayed quiet until they dragged him outside into the blistering heat. He twisted around to face the manor. Though he was far away, he could still make out Damian's form. He stood in front of the window, watching the guards escort Dick away.

_"DAMIAN!"_

Strong arms restrained him, dragging him away. Someone clapped a rag to his mouth, silencing him. The familiar scent of chloroform clogged his nostrils. Not strong enough to knock him out—oh no, knocking him out would raise Damian's suspicions—but enough to daze him. One of the radios crackled with static.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I've changed my mind. Dispose of him."

**-AK-**

**al Ghul Residence**

**Qurac**

Something was wrong.

A storm of guards nearly bulldozed Addie as she walked along the hallway, intending to speak with Grayson again regarding some sort of tactical plan. She pressed herself up against the wall, her brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell...?

"Were you looking for someone, Ms Kane?"

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she turned around. Ra's stood behind her, his expression impassive. What was he doing here? How did he manage to sneak up on her? Why would he bother dealing with a lowly peasant like her?

"As a matter of fact I was," she replied. "What's going on?"

"You'll learn soon enough." He stopped two of the men running by. "Please escort Ms. Kane to the courtyard with Wilson."

"I'm not leaving until I see everyone. We're going together."

"You should be thankful that you are alive," Ra's said. "Your freedom was assured in Wilson's contract, not Batman and Robin's. Unless you cause me trouble, then I will honor his request. Do not disrupt the natural order of things."

Before she could interrogate Ra's any further the guards swept her away. If she'd had a gun on her, she would have shot Ra's. The man had done terrible things. The world would be a better place without him in it.

"Where's Grayson?" Addie snapped, turning to her guards.

"There has been a change of plans. He will not be joining you."

"If you hurt him—"

"He is none of your concern."

They stopped in front of Slade's room and wrenched open the door. Slade looked up at them from the book he was reading.

"Addie, what's going on?" Slade glanced at the guards surrounding her. "What's the meaning of this?"

"It is time for you two to leave," said one guard. "Come with us, Wilson."

"Where's Dick? Aren't we leaving with him?" Slade asked.

"Just come with us and don't ask any questions."

Slade glanced oddly at Addie. He set the book down and stood up.

"I don't think you understand: we're not leaving without him," Addie said. "We were told that he would join us!"

"Addie." Slade grabbed her arms. "They're letting us leave."

"Slade, we can't just leave—"

"You're trying our patience," the guard said. "Leave now, or you will both be shot."

_They're going to kill him._

What if they had already killed him? Why would they keep him alive for so long? Was it to keep up an illusion? To show Damian that Grayson was recovering, then turn around and kill him?

"Addie, stand down."

The look on the guards' faces was enough. They were killing him right now! She couldn't just walk away. Grayson wasn't weak, but his injuries could prevent him from adequately fighting back.

"Addie, listen to me, I don't want any trouble. This is part of the contract."

He kept saying to trust him, but how could she? If she had it her way, she would rescue Dick and Damian and leave Slade here. If Ra's killed Slade, then so what?

Like a dumb lovestruck kid, he followed her where ever she went. If he intended to win her back, this certainly wasn't the way to go. Yet as she looked at him, his face was set. There was no trace of that soppy, romantic expression she had seen for the past two days.

"I have a plan," he said, grabbing her hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."


	19. To Assign Fault

"There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: "Not today."

George R.R Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire: A Game of Thrones.

* * *

 

**-DG-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

Water flooded his lungs.

Bubbles of air floated past him as he sunk deeper into the water, his hands fumbling with the knots. The gag prevented his jaw from snapping shut, quickening his impending death.

Talia's men had thrown him into one of the pools on the manor grounds, an ecological masterpiece given Qurac's dusty landscape. Tied a block of cement to his feet and let gravity take its course. How original.

Pressure pinched his ears and nose as he descended into the murky depths. The weight reached the muddy bottom and kicked up mud. He continued to thrash, more bubbles rushing to the surface as he struggled to free himself.

Eventually he would give up. His muscles would involuntarily relax, suck in non-existent air in a final effort to save himself. It would be better to be full of water than full of nothing, right? Talia's guards had drugged him with some chloroform, which didn't help at all.

He closed his eyes. How many more seconds now?

_Damian will never know. No one will ever know. They'll get rid of my body later._

This was an unpleasant way to die. Fear knotted his stomach, but the panic was gone from him. Dick flirted with death on a regular basis. This wasn't the first time he thought he was going to die. No one was here to die with him, to comfort him as he died. Perhaps a certain space cowboy was right: everyone always dies alone.

_This was my fault. I trusted Slade when I shouldn't have. I allowed myself to be hurt. I was nothing but a useless burden to everyone on the team._

Everything always ended up being his fault. As the Titans' leader, everything ended up being his fault if something went wrong. The print always said so. The villains always said so. Hell, even other heroes said so.

Someone grabbed his arms and began to kick up towards the light. A stronger pair of hands helped him up.

 _I'm not going to make it,_ he thought wearily. _I'll drown before I get there..._

Dick gasped as his head broke the surface, but he couldn't find the strength to swim. Even in the air he still couldn't breathe; he was too full of water. Someone untied the gag and tossed it away. Dick couldn't even find the strength to spit out water.

"Come on," a deep voice rumbled. "You're dead weight."

Someone swam beside them, pushing hands against his chest whenever Dick threatened to fall under the water again. Panic fluttered in his chest as someone pinched his nose, lips closed over his. Soft lips. Warm lips. A woman's lips. A gush of warm air pushed into his lungs, expanding his chest. His eyes snapped open in surprise, his hands pushed feebly against her; he was too weak to push her away.

"You're not going to die today," Adeline said softly.

**-SW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

Slade dragged Dick out of the water and turned him to his side, positioning his neck and body carefully so he wouldn't choke on the water in his lungs. Blue tinged his pale face. He looked lifeless. Did they arrive too late?

"He's not breathing," Addie said. "Dick! Wake up!"

Wintergreen should be here. Will would be able to help Addie. Slade could do nothing but watch as Addie tried to breathe life back into his former apprentice. He hated feeling so useless.

"CPR?" Slade suggested.

"Only as a last resort," she replied. "I don't want to break his ribs if I have to."

No, she was right. No point beating him up even more. True, Slade had seen Dick in bad condition before, but that had always been at his own hands. Those injuries had had purpose. Dick dying served no purpose except to sate Talia's annoyance.

To Slade's relief, Dick began to cough, doubling over and spitting out water. Addie cut away the ropes that bound his hands and feet. He lurched about on his hands and knees, disorientated. Slade grabbed Dick's arm and hauled him to his feet.

"You must have made Talia pretty upset," Slade said. "What did you say?"

In a few seconds Dick had tackled Slade, knocking all of the air from the mercenary as they tumbled to the pavement. Hands tightened around Slade's neck as Dick strangled him, fury evident on his face.

"Son of a bitch!"

Dick began to pummel him. Slade knew that he deserved every punch, every kick, every insult that Dick gave him, but that didn't excuse Dick's behavior.

"You let them take Damian!" Blood poured out of Slade's nose. "I can't let you get away with this. I've let you get away with worse, and now I know it was the wrong decision."

"You're the one who trusted me in the first place!" Slade spat. "Get off!"

"Coward!"

Slade punched him in his bullet wound. Dick doubled-over, blood soaking through his shirt as the wound re-opened.

"Hit me again and I'll kick you in the balls," Slade snapped. "A 'thanks' would have been nice. I saved your sorry ass, Dick."

A few seconds more and Dick would have drowned. How could Dick ever accuse Slade of not caring now? After Slade had saved his life several times during this mission? Ungrateful brat.

"If you hadn't betrayed me, then this wouldn't have happened!"

Oh, so now this was all _Slade's_ fault?

"Maybe if you weren't such a terrible Batman, you would have paid better attention to Ra's!"

They stood nearly nose-to-nose, their faces flushed with anger, spittle flying from their lips. Slade found himself yelling incomprehensible words, insults meant to hurt. Addie pulled them apart.

"Enough," she said. "Dick, if you want to save Damian, then you're going to have to trust us."

"After Slade tricked me? I don't think so!" Dick suppressed a cough. "If I had a gun, I'd shoot you again."

"So you'll kill me now?" Slade wiped away blood from his chin. "That's a little dark for you."

"Is taking away the people I love some compulsive habit of yours?"

"Listen to me," Slade said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly. "I wouldn't have done this if Addie wasn't in danger. You helped me get her back. I'll help you now."

Boy, Slade was going to have a hell of a time talking himself out of this one.

"To be honest," Addie said, holding out her hands, "you deserved a broken nose for what you did, Slade. I'm on Dick's side."

Dick turned and vomited up dirty water. His anger dissipated as he collapsed into a fit of coughing. In that moment Slade pitied him. As a mercenary he didn't often feel pity, but this was someone he had mentored for nine months. A short time, yes, but it wasn't something Slade could easily forget.

In spite of all Slade did to make sure his legacy carried on, even to the point of mastering his psychological manipulation on Terra and Rose, Dick had managed to do the impossible: he carried on Batman's legacy in spite of everything that had happened to him. Slade had to give him kudos for that.

"Come on," Addie said. "We need to get out of here before more guards show up."

Slade held out his hand, but Dick didn't take it. He didn't look at Slade as he gestured for Addie's help. With Dick hanging on Addie for support, grumbling expletives under his breath, the three of them fled the al Ghul estate.

**-SB-**

**Crime Ally, Gotham**

Jason must be messing with her. That was the only explanation she could think of.

"He's a crafty one," Jason said. "How much do you want to bet we'll get him by the end of the night?"

A tiny flame lit up his face as he lit his cigarette. For the past two days they've been tracking this hit man, with no luck whatsoever. Jason didn't seem bothered by the fact that they hadn't caught the guy yet. For all the Bats knew, Jason could be deliberately leading them on a false trail. No matter how much Steph wanted to be positive, at the moment all she wanted to do was strangle Jason.

"Could you not smoke that around me?" Steph asked, waving a hand in front of her face. "I'd rather not die by secondhand smoke."

"YOLO, Brown." He smirked. "Although I don't think that's been the case with me."

The fact of the matter was that they could not work together. Letting Jason out on his own was a bad idea. In normal circumstances Tim would have helped her, but he had his own problems to deal with in Jump.

Tracking down an al Ghul agent was harder than it looked. And Steph knew that even if they caught this one guy, there were maybe a few dozen more lurking about Gotham, just waiting for the right moment to murder them. Fun times.

"Why didn't you go back to Bruce?" she asked. "Everyone would have welcomed you back."

"Too complicated to tell you everything now," he said quietly. "I changed."

"That's a lousy excuse."

"Not everyone wants to be around Bruce. Dick has his own baggage to carry around, and I don't want to be a part of that."

"You could help—"

"Heh, me help?" Jason laughed. "You overestimate the power of friendship. I don't need to explain myself to you. I'm only here so I can kick some al Ghul ass. Talia stole my weapons, and I want them back."

A cloud of smoke rose from afar. So, the deal must have gone wrong. Steph knew that Talia wanted Dick to leave Damian alone, but now he must have pissed her off. As expected, of course. Her stomach rolled in worry: she was happy that Dick probably made Talia mad, but now the agents would attack. Jason threw his cigarette down and ground it with the heel of his boot.

"All right!" He cracked his knuckles. "Finally, the party's about to start!"

**-AK-**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

Hearing Waller's voice did more to soothe her nerves than anything else she had done that day. She sat in an armchair, her legs curled underneath her, her sweaty hands clutching the phone.

"Waller!" Addie exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"So Slade got you out okay?" Waller asked.

"We still have some things to sort out."

"Please come back, Addie. I need you here."

She sighed. "A child's life is in danger. I can't go, not with that on my conscience."

 _Damn them,_ she thought, _everything happened because I was kidnapped._

"I understand."

If he disagreed, she wasn't sure if he would try to argue. Sure, Waller protested her going to Qurac in the first place, but she was just doing her job.

"I'll come back as soon as I can," she said. "I miss you."

She hung up and closed her eyes tightly.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Slade asked, leaning against the frame of the door.

"That's none of your business."

"You know how I feel about him."

"He's a good man, even if he's from old money." She pinched the bridge of her nose. Technically she was from old money too, though she no longer acted like it. "Don't heckle him."

"No, it's fine. If he can make you happy, then that's all right with me."

Waller was a good friend. Just because he couldn't fire a gun or best Addie in a fight didn't mean anything. After Slade, it was good to be with someone who was... well, normal. Out of all of the men she had dated, Waller was the least dangerous.

"Have you finally grown up? Huh, it only took fifty years."

"I still don't like him."

"And I don't care."

The last thing she needed was Slade hounding Waller for something he didn't do. She didn't need Slade harassing every new man in her life. He shifted his weight to his other leg and nodded towards the corner of the room.

"How's Dick?"

"Could be better, but he can't fight in his condition."

Once Slade had hurried her away from the guards, he ran around to the grounds, certain that he could find Dick before it was too late. She didn't understand how Slade did it, but he discovered the guards getting rid of Dick at the pool. While there were a thousand different ways the al Ghuls could have tried to kill Dick, drowning was not one that Addie expected. Perhaps they didn't want Damian to hear the gunshots. Judging from Dick's condition, it looked like they drugged him just enough so that he wouldn't make much noise as they lowered him into the water.

She wasted no time taking out the guards with Slade. After the last one hit the ground she had dived immediately into the water to retrieve the poor boy. A minute or two and he would have drowned.

Shortly after arriving at their dilapidated hotel Dick had passed out. Given the amount of time he had spent underwater and his short burst of superhuman energy thereafter, Addie was surprised that he didn't pass out sooner.

"You should leave," Addie said. "He doesn't want to see you."

"You're probably right."

Without another protest Slade left. How odd. Normally, Slade wanted to be in control of every single situation. Maybe he knew now that he was outnumbered: both Dick and Addie didn't like him, and no matter what he said he would always be outvoted. Addie went over to the rollaway bed in the corner. Dick lay curled on the bed, wrapped in blankets despite the heat. His eyes opened blearily as he noticed her.

"We need to go back," he said, his voice raspy.

"You aren't in any shape to fight."

"This is the second time I've almost died on this mission," Dick said. "This isn't supposed to happen. I'm Batman."

The way he said that, as though being Batman alone made all other arguments invalid, would have made her laugh in other circumstances. A twinge of pity ran through her. Unlike Joey, this young man had grown up among the capes. People expected too much from him. Even Bruce Wayne strongly influenced Dick in death.

"You haven't failed, Dick. You're alive, and that's what matters right now."

"None of this was supposed to happen." He sat up. "I should have realized that the al Ghuls were behind this."

"Listen to me: this isn't your fault. You were hurt and were overpowered by Talia's guards."

Whose fault was it, then? Slade's? The al Ghuls? Dick was just a pawn in the grand scheme of things. And he hated it.

"Adeline, I never wanted this to happen again. This time it's different. It's not my friends, who were more than capable of taking care of themselves and who would die to save another life. This is Damian. This is Bruce's son, my little brother. I was supposed to take care of him, and I didn't. I failed."

"We all make mistakes, Dick. Bruce probably felt the same way."

She grabbed his head and forced him to look at her. "Accept your mistakes, Dick. Don't let them bog you down. Feeling sorry for yourself won't get Damian back."

Dick didn't strike her as the kind of person who mope after making a mistake. Anyone who had the determination to escape her former husband had to have guts and, more importantly, the ability to see past mistakes. Perhaps being injured made his mind wobble. Perhaps he was having horrible deja vu after realizing how Talia manipulated Damian. Whatever the reason, he had to put it behind him.

Adeline was never one for showing affection to strangers, but now Dick didn't feel like a stranger. He had just lost a little brother, someone he had cared for like his own child. Dick began to cough again, and laid back down on the bed. Hesitantly, she reached out and began to stroke his hair lightly, like she used to do with the kids.

"I really am sorry this happened to you," she said quietly. "We'll get through this."

**-RH-**

**Harper Residence**

**Star City**

Roy practically dove for his communicator when he saw the caller id. Not hearing from anyone except the al Ghuls wreaked his nerves. It took a moment for Dick's battered face to pop on screen.

"Dick! Are you okay? You look terrible."

"I could be better. Look, Roy, this whole thing was a conspiracy to make Damian re-join the al Ghuls."

"I know. Ra's told us as much." Roy studied Dick's face. "What happened to you?"

"Talia tried to kill me."

That bitch. No one messed with his friends. "What did I tell you, Dick? You gotta stop messing with those bitches. And Slade counts as one."

"It doesn't matter. She would have found another way to lure us there."

Lian peeked around the corner "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"It's Uncle Dick and Damian. They're in trouble."

"Can I talk to him?"

Roy handed the communicator to her. When she spoke, it was in a very serious tone Roy didn't often hear from his daughter."Uncle Dick, you have to bring the poopface home."

"I'm going to try, Lian."

"Yoda says that there is no try. Only do. You have to do it."

Dick chuckled softly. "Indeed he did. I will get Damian out of there. I promise."

Roy couldn't help but feel guilty. He should have stopped Dick from trusting Slade, should have made him get off that airplane before it took off. Slade gave them all a bad vibe, especially to those who were threatened with their lives in exchange for Dick's life.

_Calm down, Roy. It's not your fault. It was never your fault._

Still, whenever something bad happened to one of his friends he couldn't help but put some of the blame on himself. It made sense, and, in a way, made him feel a bit better about the situation. That it wasn't some arbitrary act of God, that someone could have done something to make it right.

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Residence, Qurac**

The sword was an extension of himself, so his instructor said. After being denied the sword for so long under Grayson's tutelage, Damian found it relieving to use the weapon. Maybe coming back home wasn't such a bad idea.

"That was terrible!" his instructor scolded. "Again! You've been slacking. I expected better of you."

Despite the insult, Damian found that he didn't care. His mind wandered.

There was something to say about being alone in a giant manor. Since his return, Damian found himself being hounded by his mother and grand-father more than usual. They had never taken such a personal interest in his training before. In fact, they were here today, watching him closely.

_Was it because I defected before? Why would they want me back if I left in the first place?_

As though in answer to his question, Grand-Father spoke. "Grayson has made you weak, and if you are weak then you are unfit to rule this empire."

_But Grayson managed to defeat the world's greatest mercenary at the age of sixteen. If he was weak, how could he do that?_

Look at him now: admiring Grayson. Stupid circus brat who got himself into more trouble than anyone else in the business. Stupid Grayson and his stupid laugh.

_At least he always has something to be happy about._

A sudden blow to the stomach snapped him out of his reverie. Somehow he had fallen to the floor, his side stinging, his instructor hovering over him ominously. Someone was shouting something, yelling incomprehensible insults that no longer mattered to him. Damian was vaguely aware of the pain implied by those harsh words.

_I should be afraid for my life._

But he couldn't feel that fear, couldn't make it apparent on his face. He couldn't make himself feel anything except silent resignation. Had he given up so easily?

 _I'm not happy here,_ he thought suddenly.

"Do you have something to say, Damian?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." He stood in front of his mother, assuming a firm stance. "You may keep you here if you wish, Mother, but you may not control me in such a degrading manner."

She slapped him. For a moment he did nothing, his shock temporarily paralyzing him.

"Mother—"

"Be quiet and listen ," she growled. "You do not talk back to me."

This was his mother—she cared for him, even if he couldn't see it, right? While Damian knew that her decision didn't make him happy, didn't he have some sort of obligation to obey her?

"There's too much at stake. Don't you understand? You're the biological child of Bruce Wayne! I could have you cloned, replaced! But you're his natural child. Be thankful I even went through this much trouble to take you back."

The radio on her belt crackled.

"Mistress, the body was not recovered."

"Search the grounds," Talia snapped. "Your job is not done if I don't see Grayson's body!"

The words took a moment to sink in.

"You tried to kill Grayson?" Damian's eyes widened. "But you promised—"

"Are you really that trusting?" She snorted. "It does not matter. You don't even like him."

But she promised! How could she speak so causally? She was speaking of Richard Grayson, the current Batman.

"It does not matter if I like him or not," Damian replied. "He is a human being, and his life matters."

"You are not a hero, Damian. You never will be."

In that moment Damian forgot all about the arrangement, though this was mostly because it did not matter anymore. They could not detain him against his will. Not without a fight. With a shout, he ran forward and swung his staff towards her face.

In an instant he found himself pinned to the ground. The very men who had served him moments before now followed Talia's orders, ignoring Damian's demands to be released. He squirmed, trying to find a weak point, an opportunity to escape. His mother loomed over him, her face livid.

He had no real power here. People listened to him because Talia was his mother, not because he earned it. No matter how close he thought he would get to anyone, the guards would kill him if Talia ordered it.

There was no way to win. This time he didn't have the power of surprise on his side; his mother knew how to deal with betrayal now. His chest tightened when he realized that his only available option was to grovel and beg.

 _"Don't kill him!"_ Damian bellowed. "Please! I said that I would stay!"

Why didn't she keep her promise? It didn't make any sense.

"Release him," Talia said, "I'll deal with with the brat."

Damian scrambled to his feet once the guards released him, backing away. Without another word Talia grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall. Before he could demand an explanation, she threw roughly him into a room and slammed the door shut.

"I'll deal with you later," she snapped. "You are in deep trouble, young man. I hope you have the sense to accept your punishment when I return."

Punishment...

Panic suddenly throttled him. Grayson had never hurt him when he did something wrong. And even when Damian did do something that roused his temper, Grayson merely yelled and took away some minor privileges. This... this was Talia al Ghul. Anything short of death was permissible as punishment.

 _"MOTHER!"_ he banged his fists against the door. "Open the door! MOTHER!"

The lights went out. He backed into the wall, the sudden darkness overwhelming him. His hands danced across the walls, trying to find a way out. Grayson would be dead and it was his fault. What would Father think? What would Pennyworth think?

Damian wrapped his arms around his knees. "Dick, please... come back."


	20. Bereaved

**-SB-**

**Crime Ally**

**Gotham City**

The ends of her long hair sizzled as she fought her way through the flames, coughing out ash and soot. Her eyes watered, but she forced her eyes open. Jason swore loudly.

"He just _had_ to hit a residential area, didn't he?" Jason coughed. "We need to get these people out of here."

Before she could say another word Jason slammed himself against a burning wall. Someone—a child—screamed as the flames billowed out, anxious to eat away the little air left in the room.

 _It's too late to stop the fire,_ Steph thought. _The firefighters will stop it from spreading... I hope._

Seconds later Jason emerged from the flames, parts of his costume alight, a small boy huddled in his arms.

 _He must be boiling in that helmet,_ Steph thought aimlessly. _He should get rid of it._

"I'll stay here to look for other people, get him out," Jason said, handing the boy to her.

"You need help—"

"I need to know how many people are in the building! Get out there and find out how many are left!"

There was no time to argue. She'd give him a piece of her mind later, after the building was cleared of people.

"Hold on tight," she told the boy as she fumbled with her grapple-hook.

Wind rushed through her hair as she leapt out of the building, heat caressing her back as the writhing inferno surged behind them. The boy shook in fear, his arms tightening around her neck. People parted as she landed, her legs shaking from the impact.

"Is that everyone?" Steph demanded, letting the kid run to his mom. "Buddy check!"

The cowering crowd looked bewildered at one another. After a moment one woman nodded. "Yes, everyone's here."

Steph craned her neck to look at the disintegrating building. Jason was still in there.

"Get out of there, helmethead," she said into her communicator. "Everyone's out."

No one answered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him leap out of the building just as a floor collapsed, his clothes aflame and his helmet off. Stupid thing probably began to melt in the heat.

"Is that Batman?" the little boy asked, pointing.

"Batman?" Steph echoed, laughing nervously. "No, not even close."

"Then why are you with him, Batgirl?"

"It's complicated," she said, maybe a little too quickly. "Gotta run!"

A firefighter shouted out his thanks as she ran by, her blond hair trailing behind her like a second cape. She found the former Robin in an alleyway, beating his leather coat against the side of a building, trying to kill the last lingering flames.

"Looks like I'll have to get another one," he said, holding up the coat to examine the damage. "Pity. I liked this one."

"I'll take you shopping later. Where did the agent go?"

Streams of water showered down on the building. Jason watched them for a moment. "He's already gone," he replied. "He wants to keep us distracted. He knows that if people are in trouble we'll go after them."

"Smart guy," she replied. "The al-Ghuls have better employees this time around."

Steph wasn't too familiar with the al Ghuls. Because she had retired from the Robin mantle early (what a curse!), she hadn't spent as much time fighting them alongside Bruce. Though she was pretty sure they knew who she was. Kind of a given, really.

"No one burns down my city," Jason said. "When I catch him—"

"When _we_ catch him."

Several sirens blared in the distance. If Steph's suspicions were correct, then this wasn't the only thing the agent set off. Whoever he was, he was probably in cahoots with some of Gotham's big bad villains. Well, that was her educated guess.

"Batgirl to Arsenal," Steph said into her communicator. "Backup would be nice now."

Batwoman would take care of her section of Gotham. If the al Ghuls had been thorough, then they would have sent agents to Jump City as well. Maybe even Star City, if they were gonna be real control freaks.

"We have our own crap to deal with," Roy replied. "Mommy's back in town."

Cheshire again? Girl does what she wants, that's for sure.

"You aren't tired already, Batgirl?" Jason asked, smiling wryly. "How disappointing."

"We're not stopping until all of the al Ghul agents are behind bars."

The two of them raced off into the early morning light. In his own way, Jason was a hero. Maybe Steph would never be able to get over the fact that he had no problem killing people, but he did try and, the majority of the time, he succeeded. While Steph was silently freaking out that there were bad guys destroying her city, she knew that it wasn't Jason's fault the agent got away.

 _Right now,_ she thought, _we need all the help we can get, even if it_ is _Jason Todd._

**-TD-**

**Titans Tower**

**Jump City, California**

Yet again Tim found himself sitting at the main computer, half a cup of coffee resting next to the keyboard, his eyes drooping in weariness. The other Titans were away, most wondering when the al Ghul agents in Jump City were going to strike. Tim, however, found his mind wandering.

He understood why Dick didn't want to talk to him. Sometimes the other capes thought that Tim was insensitive with his analytical comments, but Tim was always concerned about his friends. Dick didn't want to talk to him because Tim hadn't been a Titan for a long while. And Tim had to accept the fact that _no one_ could console Dick like the original Titans could. While they hadn't been with him during the apprenticeship, they had experienced it with him in a different way, felt the fear and uncertainty.

This was one reason why Tim felt alienated from the original members. Yeah, he followed their stories when he was little, admired them, but at times as Robin he felt as though he could never truly connect with them. Likewise, he wasn't sure _his_ Titans would be able to connect fully with them. There were just certain experiences that bonded all of them together.

And now everything that was happening with the al Ghuls... well, Dick could just walk away from this and abandon Damian. This was, in part, because Tim disliked Damian and couldn't possibly imagine what Dick saw in the brat.

_Brat tried to throw me off a building. Kinda hard to ignore that._

He turned his head when he heard a soft bleeping. Someone was trying to call Titans Tower. Intrigued, Tim sat back down at his desk and looked at the contact. From Tamaran? Well, it could only be one person.

"It's nice to hear from you, Starfire," Tim said as he opened up his webcam. "How are you? How is Tamaran?"

Starfire's beautiful face filled the entire screen, her face lighting up once she saw Tim.

"Very well, thank you. I am gladdened to see you, Tim!" Starfire exclaimed. "Tell me, how is Dick? Is he well?"

She was a sweet girl, no doubt about that, but it was easy for Tim to feel flustered whenever he spoke with her. As she grew older she changed her costume to something more... bold. However, he got used to her new costume.

"Dick's not back from Qurac yet," Tim replied.

"When will he return?"

"I don't know."

A darkhaired Tamaranean child floated next to Starfire. Oh, right. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Dick and Starfire had a child.

"Hi Mar'i," Tim said, waving to the child. "How are you?"

"Where is Daddy? He said he would call, and he hasn't."

"Um..."

His face flushed.

"Can I talk to your mom alone, Mar'i?"

Star caught Tim's anxious tone and, thankfully, dismissed Mar'i in Tamaranean. The child stopped floating and sank to the ground, a petulant expression on her face.

"The mission did not go well?" Starfire asked.

"No. The al Ghuls almost killed Dick, and also decided to take Damian back."

"X'hal! And what of Slade?"

Tim swallowed thickly; he knew that any mention of Slade's ill-doings would set her off. "He double-crossed them, though I know that Adeline Kane had nothing to do with it."

"This is unacceptable!" Starfire slammed a fist into the desk so hard that the webcam shook. "I will speak to my husband immediately! I cannot allow Dick to fall into the same trap!"

"Starfire, let me explain—"

Before Tim could say anything more she had shut off the webcam in her rage. He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, muffling an expletive. Starfire had said it herself months ago: her place right now was on Tamaran, to make sure that war wouldn't break out in the Vega system. She shouldn't come back to Earth on a whim. Dick just felt hesitant about contacting Starfire at all, since she was married to someone else. Tim didn't know how he would feel if Star just showed up.

 _I just wish I knew what was going on!_ Tim thought desperately.

The Tower alarm bleeped and the lights turned red. As the other Titans hurried towards the common room Tim sat quite still for a long while.

**-SW-**

**Hotel Room**

**Abu Dhabi, Qurac**

Slade felt drained. Three days had gone by after Dick had almost drowned, and in the interim since then Dick had gone out of his way to aggravate Slade. Dealing with Addie's accusations didn't help as well.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" Addie asked, her voice low. "You were just going to leave Damian there."

"This shouldn't be my problem."

"Oh, but it is."

Did he want to win her back? Should he? Could he retire, like Wintergreen said that he should? Part of Slade wanted to.

"I know you can't fix everything," she said, "but you owe Dick so much."

"What?" His voice rose in indignation. "I don't owe him anything."

"He let you walk free. You didn't deserve that."

"We are not here to talk about that," Slade said, holding up his hands to silence her. "Just drop it."

"You can't keep pushing the blame to someone else. This was entirely your design, so grow some balls and _face your problems."_

 _"What do you think I've been doing?"_ Slade snapped. "Every time I turn around I have to deal with some crap from my past!"

"You? What about me? Nearly every day I have to deal with _your_ mistakes! I have to live with the fact that I married a murderer!"

Her words slapped him across the face. Addie stood, her fists clenched, her knees bent, her face flushed with emotiom, her hair strewn about her face.

"I didn't know you felt that way," he replied in a low voice.

So, she still thought that Grant's death was his fault. Their son's death stood between them, an uncrossable gap that they had never reached across. Even amidst all of the horrible things their family had gone through, only one child had died. And it was this that made Slade sympathize with Dick: that unnatural realization that your child is in terrible danger, and the ensuing guilt that there is nothing you can do about it.

Addie breathed heavily, so furious that she could not say a word.

"I'm not talking to you about this now," Slade said stiffly, trying to break the silence. "I'll do whatever it takes to take you back to the States. That had always been my plan."

"You don't need to take care of me."

"Sometimes you just need to let people do that."

"Sometimes you just need to let go. I'm going to check on Dick, since you never took care of him."

"I _did!"_ Slade called out defensively as she began to walk away.

Somehow he found himself against the wall, a hand around his throat, her face close to his.

"Don't you _dare,"_ she growled, "don't you dare call what you did to him good and just. Dick has done more for you than I would have. He helped you when he didn't have to, when he _shouldn't_ have. You owe him."

She had said that before, but Slade didn't quite catch her meaning. He _owed_ Dick? For what? For falling yet again into another one of Slade's traps?

"Is that what he thinks?" Slade asked.

"He's only doing his job. The poor boy has reaped little reward for it." Addie let go of him. "He's Joey's friend, Slade. You can't keep hurting people like this."

She walked away. Slade followed Addie into the hotel room, despite the fact that he knew he was not welcome.

Dick lay asleep on one of the two beds in the hotel room even though it was the middle of the afternoon. The kid was so exhausted. Getting some rest at the al Ghul estate had been out of the question; who could sleep when Talia could kill you at a moment's notice? Several times Addie had prevented Dick from leaving the hotel. He was still in terrible shape, but he could not stand not doing anything to help Damian. For now, he accepted the fact that he needed to rest. Dick's eyes opened blearily as they approached.

"Is it time to go?" he asked.

"Maybe you should go home," Addie said, "regain your strength before going back to Damian. Talia won't kill him."

"Then you don't know her like I do." He raised his head. "Despite everything she's done to get him back, Talia is willing to kill him. She will if he proves too much of a pest."

"That doesn't make sense," Slade interjected.

"She has the money and the power to make a clone. She doesn't have time to deal with Damian's crap. There is no emotional connection between them."

Slade knew that the al Ghuls were brutal, but for Talia to kill her own son? The idea seemed so foreign to Slade.

"Adeline, could you give us a moment?" Dick asked quietly. "I need to talk to Slade."

She shot a glare at Slade before nodding. "I'll be outside if you need me."

Slade watched her go, an alien feeling growing in his chest. What is it Slade felt? Jealously? That Addie was paying more attention to Dick than to Slade? He didn't know.

A soft cough diverted Slade's attention back to Dick.

"Everything really is your fault," Dick said. "Do you know what Talia told me? That the only reason she let me train Damian was because of you. Because you trained me how to kill people. Somehow she hoped that I would pass those skills onto her son."

"How could I have predicted that?" Slade replied. "Why don't we stop philosophizing and start getting things done?"

Dick wasn't listening to Slade. Somehow, Slade got the sense that Dick didn't want Slade to talk, only to listen. Dick's hands shook slightly; his eyes drifted into space as he began to chew at a nail.

"I've had time to think the past few days," Dick said, more to himself than to Slade. "Going over every single mistake I've made, wondering where I went wrong..."

"Wrong to trust me?" Slade offered.

Dick glared. "You changed almost everything about me. The way I fight crime, the way I live my life... you really don't understand, do you? I could not talk to my friends freely for _months._ I could not look at them in the face. _I_ felt like the guilty one. I couldn't understand how people changed while I was locked up in some stupid Haunt, never aware that you hollowed me out. You don't know what that feels like.

"And even now, freakin' ten years later I can still feel this empty space within me, as though it never healed. I don't know what I'm trying to say. Maybe I'm ranting without a purpose. But I don't know how else to make you understand how you _ruin_ peoples' lives."

This was unadulterated ranting, every syllable was something he had been bottling up for years and years. Maybe he had voiced these thoughts before with his friends, so why was he saying this now? Slade didn't like standing here, being forced to listen to every word Dick said.

"When you told me that you needed help rescuing Adeline, some arbitrary thought crossed my mind: maybe now Slade understands what it's like to have a loved one in danger. Maybe now, after everything he put me through, he would learn how to be human again. That he wasn't the monster of the nightmares. I guess I was wrong.

"It's not about you and me. It's about Damian. I dedicated my life to helping others because I don't want anyone else to go through the kind of pain I've felt. I needed to show him that it's possible to reconcile, that it's possible to work with people you don't like. That it's sometimes necessary. To not hold grudges like his father does." Dick swallowed thickly. "Who am I kidding? Bruce is dead. Damian is the only thing I have left of him. I can't let him go."

An awkward silence crept between them.

"Feel better?" Slade asked, trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "If you do, then we can get back to business."

In any other circumstance, Slade wouldn't have bothered trying to sort out Dick's feelings towards him. Before he began to listen only when it suited his needs. But if he had tried to back out of this rant, Addie would have forced him to listen and understand.

But Dick didn't mean to say all that, did he? Dick paused for a few moments, perhaps gathering his thoughts, wondering what to say next. Maybe he felt horrified that he had said all that to Slade in his rage.

"We can't go in and rescue Damian by ourselves," Slade said, to break the silence. "It's too risky with the al Ghuls in charge."

Dick seemed to deflate. His entire body slumped back into the bed. "I'm just a terrible Batman."

"You have the lowest self-esteem of anyone I've ever met," Slade said. "You criticize yourself too much."

"And you never criticize yourself enough."

At one point, Dick had seen Slade as his mentor. Maybe not willingly, maybe he was deluded. Hell, maybe Slade had been deluded. So what if they were arch-enemies? Eventually, the antagonism grew wearisome.

"You accepted the mission," Slade pointed out.

"Because of other people. I have nothing against Adeline; I would have rescued her regardless of her connection to you. I still don't consider you a friend, Slade. You've changed, but when I look at you it's hard not to see the man who constantly threatened my life."

People held grudges, it was understandable. Slade had done the same with Jackal. In retrospect, Slade realized that he may have been too hard on Dick at times, that perhaps he could have done a better job of keeping his apprentice. Then again, maybe Slade shouldn't have extorted him at all.

"What do you want from me?" Slade asked.

"Nothing except an apology. An honest one." Dick stood up. "Acknowledging that I am your equal isn't enough. I only affirmed what you thought from the beginning: that I was your perfect student. I want to hear you say that you were wrong from the start. That I was the wrong choice all along."

"An apology won't get Damian back," Slade replied.

"You don't care about Damian," Dick said. "You'd rather save yourself than save him. Everything you do is for personal gain."

"Even now, when I'm helping you? When I saved your life?"

"It was only because the al Ghuls wanted me alive."

Would there never be clear-cut answers between them? Dick never looked at him directly in the face unless he was screaming obscenities at him.

"Haven't I taught you anything?" Slade demanded, grabbing Dick by the shoulder and turning him roughly around. "Ra's just screwed me over. I'm pissed. You need help getting Damian back. I'm just _dying_ for revenge. If you truly care about Damian, and you want to get him out, then wouldn't you do everything in your power to make sure that happens?"

"Don't try it," Dick said, trying to back away. "Don't try to mentor me."

"Then don't act like a child."

Even at twenty-six Dick still displayed youthful insouciance, one that he wouldn't grow out of for a very long while. Slade knew because he had been like that as a young man.

"Addie won't leave until Damian returns to Gotham with you," Slade said. "I promised her that I would help you."

"Then you're not sincere." Dick shrugged. "Whatever. Help me if you want. I don't care."

"I know what it's like to lose a child," Slade said. "If there's anything in the world I don't want you to feel, it is bereavement."

Slade couldn't read the expression on Dick's face. The younger man turned his head slowly, as though uncertain he had heard correctly. There was no need to elaborate, for Dick knew Slade's history well. Funny, really, how much Dick understood his character. Few people did.

"At least this time you understand," Dick said. "Thank you for that."

Dick's voice was curt, rough, still unbelieving.

"No more double-crosses?" Dick asked.

"None. I guess we've come to an understanding?"

"Don't push it." Dick placed his hands behind his back and stood a little straighter. "I don't think we'll ever be friends, Slade. Merely allies."

"I can handle that."

Slade held out his hand. Some part of him wanted reconciliation, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. No matter how well Slade treated him now, Dick wanted to distance himself from Slade. And when Slade honestly thought about it, he couldn't blame him for that.

To his surprise, Dick shook his hand. "This is the last time, Slade. The last time."

Slade felt the need to say something, anything, knowing that it was his last time to reconcile. It would make Addie happy, perhaps surprise her enough to forgive him for everything he had done. After that long-winded rant, Dick deserved to hear this.

"Just know this, Dick," Slade said, unable to help himself, "When I took you in—okay, _extorted—_ you, I had every intention of you being my equal. I.." He stopped himself, unsure how Dick would take this. "I am proud of you. I'm proud of my own son too, don't get me wrong, but you have done more than I ever expected of you. You are mentoring a child I wouldn't want to work with. You have a good reputation, even in the villainous underground. You turned out to be a better man than me."

This was something that Slade could not express in words ten years ago. That he was sincere, despite his failures and disillusioned way of thinking and acting, when he said he was looking for someone to follow his footsteps.

This time Slade identified the expression on Dick's face. It was that of someone struggling with instant disgust and confusion. For the first time in ten years, Slade was distinctly aware of how much pain he had caused in this young man's life. Slade was not struck by an overwhelming desire to fix it, to atone for it, but he was aware. And he got the sense that it was this awareness that Dick wanted to inspire within Slade.

Dick left the room without another word.

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Residence**

**Qurac**

He felt himself sliding into sleep, his hand slipping out from under his chin, his eyes drooping shut, his body slowly sliding down to the floor. He slapped himself to stay awake, his knees popping as he moved to a different sitting position. Physical discomfort quickly wore anyone down.

Since his earlier outburst, he had been kept under constant guard in the same room for three days. The ill-effects of social isolation began to eat away at his mind, though he said nothing to the guards. Damian liked being alone, but not when he was forced to.

He hadn't even been given the privilege of a bed. Damian didn't know how long his mother intended to prolong his imprisonment, but he wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. Since there was nothing productive he could do to escape (but escape he did attempt early in his imprisonment), his mind turned to meditation.

If he ever felt anything at all, he had always felt anger. Anger at Grayson, angry at his father, angry at anyone who opposed him. But as he sat there, biding his time and reflecting, he realized that he just felt weary.

He tried to think of everything Grayson had told him. Being aggressive sometimes didn't work. Learning how to charm people could go a long way, but charm was not in Damian's vocabulary. Learning how to manipulate one person took skill and time, neither of which Damian had at the moment.

And Damian wasn't dealing with one man. The al Ghuls had armies, more security than Slade Wilson ever had. They had the resources to train him from afar, to remove themselves as much as possible from him in order to achieve their goals. He was nothing but a pawn.

_Cooperate. That is your only option._

Damian gritted his teeth at the thought. Cooperation was a low, cowardly act. He paused. That was something his mother had taught him, wasn't it? But he didn't want to be hurt again.

_Maybe I don't understand entirely what they did to me, but it was wrong._

He wasn't even thinking in terms of morals. If Talia hurt him, then it was wrong because she had hurt him. That much he understood.

Damian's shoulders began to shake, but tears never came. Something deep within his chest began to ache, something Talia's medical team could not hope to fix. Alien thoughts flitted across his mind, thoughts of his life back in Gotham and thoughts of Grayson bumbling his way through life. Damian never thought that he would miss anyone in Gotham or any of the capes. Stupid Drake and the stupid Titans. Stupid Harper and his annoying daughter. Stupid... stupid... Damian was so stupid...

What would his father do? Was that the wrong question to ask? What would Grayson do? Damian didn't know, and he hated the uncertainty.

"Are you ready to behave?"

His mother's voice boomed through the room, though he did not cower in fear. Any sign of fear would be dealt with accordingly. But why was he afraid? He shouldn't be afraid of his own mother. Damian stood up, smoothed out the wrinkles in his pants, and straightened to address her.

"I've contemplated my actions and realized that I was wrong," he said calmly. "I apologize, Mother."

When did he learn to speak so smoothly? To hide his feelings? Damian wasn't a blubbering idiot like Grayson, but there was something wrong with him. Something very, very wrong, and he could not figure out what.

The door opened, Talia's silhouette blocking out the light from the hallway. His eyes narrowed against the sudden light; he lifted a hand to shield his eyes.

"You will gradually return to your studies," she said. "I expect you to behave yourself."

"Of course, Mother."

He bowed respectfully, his joints aching. He would need to rest once he had the means to.

 _Everything is an act,_ he thought. _I shall deceive, for I have been deceived._

Some part of him objected, for he knew that his mother was an intelligent woman, and of course there was the natural tendency to obey one's mother ingrained within him. The lights flickered on. As he blinked away the spots in his vision he felt her hand land on his shoulder.

"Any insubordination and you will return to this cell," she said quietly into his ear. "I was lenient this time. It will not happen again. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Mother."

Her hand tightened slightly before she let go. "Get cleaned up and report back to your usual quarters."

Obeying her directly was his only option. This was not something he could fight his way out of. As Damian walked into the light, he was suddenly painfully aware of his youth. Of the years ahead he had left to train and better himself, of the time his mother and Grayson and all the others had already completed. A sudden wave of depression hit him, though his face remained impassive. It would not do to show fear or any other emotion.

He would not break.


	21. Recalcitrant

**-DG-**

**Qurac**

He would save Damian. That was more than Bruce had ever done for Dick during the apprenticeship. Sure, Bruce tried, but in the end Dick had to escape using his wits and the help of dead friends.

His bullet wound had subsided to a dull pain he could deal with, and he was over his illness from nearly drowning. After being useless for so long, he helped Slade and Adeline pack up. None of them talked much all morning; there was nothing really to talk about.

"All that talk of bereavement," Dick said suddenly, "you know Bruce felt the same way when you kidnapped me."

"The more we don't talk about that the better."

They fell into silence again. Dick watched Slade pack away his guns, remembering his own training with the horrible things.

"He's a smart kid," Dick said. "He will figure something out."

"They've trained him. They know exactly how he works."

"No, they don't. Not after I've worked with him. They don't know him like I do."

Damian was resourceful, stubborn, intelligent, in every way his father's son. Dick glanced at Slade before looking away again.

He couldn't quite find the words to describe the shouting match from the day before. How silly, that even after ten years he still acted this way. It was difficult to reconcile his emotions towards Slade, whom he would never quite forgive. Dick supposed that he wanted to forgive Slade, just as he had let go of killing Tony Zucco as a child, but things would never work out. However, he had to admit that Adeline made Slade try to reconcile. She was a good influence on Slade, even when they weren't together.

"So you think he's a good Robin?"

Dick started at the question. "He's given me no reason to doubt him. Spontaneity, creativity, resourcefulness... those are the marks of Robin. He has them all."

"Is this the first time he's been captured?"

"No, but he was always with me. I always got us out."

 _He always said it was my fault, the little turd,_ Dick thought.

Difficult Damian may be at times, but the kid's sarcasm made Dick smile. That dry, sardonic, curt humor reminded Dick so much of Bruce. The more Dick spent time with him, the more he saw just how much Damian was his father's son.

"There's a first time for everything," Slade said. "I hope you taught him his knots."

Slade chuckled as he stowed away the last of his guns. Dick bit back a snarky comment and ignored him.

Dangerous thoughts echoed endlessly inside Dick's head. He should have told Damian the story of his apprenticeship from the beginning, should have made that connection earlier, demonstrated that he understood Damian better than the other capes. But thinking about what he could have done wouldn't do anything. Learning when to step back and when to step in was one of the hardest challenges Dick faced. The kid was proud, intelligent in many ways, but also hurt in ways he didn't realize. Without Bruce to help his son, to remind him why he became Batman in the first place, Dick would have to step in as Damian's father.

"I just wish there was some way to contact him," Dick said. "Breaking into an al Ghul residence is near impossible."

"Call your friends for help," Slade said. "I'm not stopping you this time."

Dick could feel Addie watching them, her silence speaking more than her words. Did she put Slade up to this?

"Not like you stopped me the first time." Dick zipped his bag violently shut. "I need to make a phone call."

"Fine," Slade said, "I'm sorry—"

"I don't want an apology if it isn't sincere." Dick shrugged. "I don't expect you to apologize anyway."

Slade didn't matter. While some part of Dick would always want an apology, he had learned to let it go a long time ago.

"Make your call quick. We have to leave before the al Ghuls find us."

Adeline watched him as he left the room, moving to speak with Slade once Dick was out of earshot. Sometimes Dick overheard their shouting matches through the thin hotel walls. He wanted to walk away, not be privy to such an intimate, destructive, broken relationship, but he had no choice while he was still hurt. Every single night the two former lovers fought. They fought over Slade's treatment of the Titans, over Joey's future, over so many little things Dick didn't want to hear.

He preferred not to think about Slade's love life. About his wife, about Wintergreen as his best man, about the life he had led before he went crazy. And every time both would storm out flushed with anger, both just as snappish and violent as the other. Adeline could be sweet, but boy Dick didn't want to be on her bad side.

Instead of lingering on them Dick turned his thoughts to Damian. If Dick wanted to show Damian that he cared, that everyone else cared, then Damian would rise up. He would do the unthinkable, the impossible. Dick knew he could do it, because Robin had done the impossible before.

**-RH-**

**Downtown**

**Gotham City**

All hell broke loose in Gotham.

Not that it wasn't the first time this had happened. Gotham residents should be used to chaos by now. It was a wonder people still lived here at all.

Roy and Lian stood yet again on a rooftop in Gotham, having answered Batgirl's call for help. The al Ghul's agents finally struck. Roy guessed that Dick must have done something awful to royally piss Talia off.

Someone in gold-and-red sped by, so fast that Lian's hat flew off her head. Roy didn't even blink as the speedster halted.

"Oh good, you're here," Roy said. "Why are you always five minutes late?"

"I try not to be," replied Flash, stooping to pick up Lian's hat. "What's going on?"

Wally, formerly Kid Flash, had taken over his uncle's role a couple years ago. Most former sidekicks had already done so, or were working on their own under a different name.

"Party in Gotham, just like always." Roy shifted the quiver on his back to a more comfortable position. "I don't know what the al Ghul agents are up to. Be it bomb, gas, what have you, we need to shut them down before they start attacking our own cities again."

Wally jerked his head towards the smoke. "I could check that out—"

"Steph and Jason are in that part of town," Roy said, nodding towards the billowing smoke.

"Jason? Jason Todd?"

"I know, right?" Roy shrugged. "So long as he doesn't kill anyone he can help... I guess. It's not really my call."

The Bats could do whatever they pleased with Jason. So long as the kid wasn't hurting innocent people, then Roy didn't care. Seemed like he was doing well on his own anyway.

"Any luck with Cheshire?"

"I wish."

"Is she here?"

"I think so. I think the al Ghuls hired her to keep an eye on me."

"How does Lian feel?" Wally asked in a lowered voice.

"She knows what we have to do." Roy stared steadily at his friend. "She knows that her mother will hurt her if it's necessary."

Sometimes the bad guys were just so predictable. You could make a decent drinking game out of everything they tried to do. Take a shot every time they monologue. Take two if they gloat over your imminent demise. All that good stuff.

But Jade was different. She took on this job because it paid well, not because she wanted to get rid of Batman and Robin. As the years passed Roy realized that she didn't care much for her daughter, especially once she realized that Lian preferred the hero's life.

"Did you notice anything weird in your town?" Roy asked.

"So far we're okay. It's Batman and Robin I'm worried about."

"Everything's always in Gotham," Roy said. "Batman's just way too popular for his own good."

"I'll be patrolling town," Wally said. "If it gets too dangerous I'll start the evacuations and get Batgirl to talk to Commissioner Gordon. He trusts her."

"Sounds like a plan."

As Flash sped off Roy couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear for his daughter. What if he had dragged her into a dangerous situation? What if she got hurt tonight? He feared for Dick and Damian's well-being as well, but Roy couldn't help but think back to when Jade had been hired to kill Cyborg's father.

 _I don't think she loves me anymore,_ Roy thought.

Someone landed on the rooftop behind him, her swords sliding out of their sheaths in a quiet hiss. Heh. Girl was tracking him, then.

"Hello again, Roy."

**-Rae-**

**Titans Tower**

**Jump City, California**

It was hard to meditate with a city to protect, but Raven somehow found the time to reflect during the day.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Joey stood beside her, shivering slightly in the cool night air.

 _"Dick is asking for you,"_ he said.

She sighed and stood up, her cloak falling back over her shoulders. It was about time that idiot contacted them. Raven had half a mind to tell the original Titans to go to Qurac, but having the Titans help Batman would shatter the illusion that the original was still alive.

"I'll be right down."

Joey followed her anxiously. Of course... his father was in Qurac with Dick. When Raven heard that Dick was working with Slade she nearly lost control of her emotions. No one guessed that she felt such impressive anger, since her expression never changed, but how couldn't she feel something? Dick shouldn't have agreed to work with Slade, not after that mess ten years ago. But who was she to berate Batman?

"You're worried," she said to Joey, stopping. "About them all?"

He nodded, his eyes downcast. Joey had so much more at stake than anyone else. Raven knew that Joey still loved his father, even though he knew about all the horrible things Slade had done to his friends. And his mother... well, Raven knew how much he cared about his mother.

"They'll make it out alive," Raven said. "I'm sure of it."

She left Joey in the corridor and walked to the main room, where Dick was waiting to speak with her over the web cam. He looked tired, but not hurt.

"What do you need, Dick?" Raven asked.

"I need your help."

"Why?"

Dick never asked for help unless he was desperate, a horrible habit he hadn't quite broken over the years.

"Damian's been captured, and I need to send him a message."

"Do you want us to come over? I can get Herald—"

"No, no, that isn't it. That isn't the way."

"What do you mean?"

After making some inarticulate gestures with his hands Dick sighed and forced words.

"I'm getting serious deja vu. This was all some convoluted scheme to get Damian away from me. I need your help contacting him in any way that I can. The best thing you guys ever did for me was support me. Help me do the same for Damian."

There was a hint of desperation in his voice. Raven didn't mind Damian—though she was hard-pressed for patience whenever she dealt with the child. And even when Damian was at his worst Raven did not wish for any harm to come to him.

"Don't be cryptic. Tell me what I need to do."

"We need to show him that we care. I know he's an egoistic kid, but he believes that no one cares for him."

"Who does besides you, Dick?"

"Alfred. Lian. Maybe Mar'i—people do care. He's Bruce only son. I have to make things right. I don't want to fail him or his father, Raven."

He needed a telepath's help, then. Raven's influence only ran so far. Martian Manhunter or M'gann would be better suited to this role, so why didn't he just ask them?

_It's because he trusts me. It's because I would understand better than anyone else._

"Are you able to fight back?" Raven pointed to his side. "I heard you were shot."

"I'm hurt, but I have to be the one to go back. I have to be the one Damian sees."

"It would be easier if I could come over."

"You have to help Tim take care of Jump City. Please, Raven, help me. Help Damian. He needs to know that we all care about him."

**-DW-**

**al Ghul Residence**

**Qurac**

He woke up early enough to hear the morning Muzzein call to prayer.

Some of the servants were religious. Most of Qurac was as well, if Damian remembered his history correctly. Even if his own family wasn't religious in any way, Grand-Father did allow his servants some freedoms. After being away from the Middle East for so long, Damian found the voice haunting. The Muzzein called all believers to prayer, to roll out their prayer mats and kneel towards Mecca.

Sleep was a necessary commodity. Without sleep he could not think clearly, but at the same time he could not waste time sleeping when he could be thinking. So instead of sleeping, he took a walk.

Although he was not allowed online, he was allowed to wander designated areas.

If there was anything his mother had taught him well, it was never to waste time idling. If Damian had to wait to escape, then so be it. In the meantime, there were things he needed to learn, things he needed to understand before he moved forward.

During what little free time he was given, he went to the library, where he went through the history of the al Ghul's enemies. If Grayson would not explain, or if Grayson would never again have the opportunity to explain, then Damian wished to exercise his detective skills. He would fill in the gaps of Grayson's story.

Little was written between Grayson as Robin and Nightwing. Before, Damian had demanded that Grayson tell him everything that had happened with Wilson. Now he understood how difficult it was to talk about such things.

But there were recording to sort through. Informal and formal interviews with Nightwing, considered a Bludhaven oddity. People were unsure what to think of him, even when they understood that he was the Robin everyone had come to love. There were people who had seen him steal, seen him hurt people, so who would believe that he had changed sides for good?

The al Ghuls kept extensive files on each member of the Bat family, and of late have been keeping considerable tabs on the man who became Nightwing. With Bruce Wayne gone, Dick Grayson now stood as the biggest threat to the House of al Ghul.

Damian leaned back in his chair and watched an old interview—perhaps a decade old—from Bludhaven. A cursory glance over the papers told him that Nightwing deliberately stayed in the public spotlight, staying away from the questions until he had lived in Bludhaven for three months.

'We don't normally have capes call a press conference,' said the reporter, a woman. 'You're an unusual one, Nightwing.'

'Just different, Janet, but Holy Strawberries, still the same kid you know!' Nightwing did not smile as he spoke.

'So you are—or were—Robin, formerly Batman's partner and leader of the Teen Titans?'

'Yes. Different costume, same guy.'

'Was this a planned undercover operation, Nightwing?' one reporter asked. 'After all, you were gone for so long.'

'No.'

A slight pause. Shock, perhaps, on the reporter's face?

'Then why are you here?' she asked.

'I'd like to dispel any and all rumors about me. Ask away, Janet.'

The woman arranged her skirts, looked at Nightwing carefully, excited to interrogate him, yet slightly troubled at what Nightwing was insinuating.

'Did you work for the villain known as Slade willingly?'

'Yes, I did.'

'But you aren't working for him now?'

'Obviously.'

'Why did you work for him?'

'It wasn't voluntary. And that it changed me.'

'In what way?'

Something changed over Nightwing's countenance. 'We'll pick this up some other time.'

In a matter of moments Nighwing had disappeared, just as Batman taught him.

At the back of Damian's mind, he suspected that his relations were watching and taking note of his search history, and would react accordingly once he left the library. As though someone had read his thoughts, a servant tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Your grand-father would like to speak with you, Master Damian. Please, come with me."

Without objecting—defying the servant would do nothing to prevent the conference—Damian followed the servant with his head slightly bowed, aware that the staff gossiped behind his back. As if being terrorized by his mother wasn't terrible enough.

He almost wished that he had powers. Maybe not like Superman—his cheerful disposition grated Damian—but like someone else. To overpower those taking advantage of him in this delicate situation. Even someone like Batman.

So far, Damian had only been with his grand-father while his mother was in the room. Being such a busy man, Ra's al Ghul obviously had little time for his little grandson.

"I hear you've been causing trouble, young man."

So many people feared him. Damian feared him. He had seen Ra's come out of the Lazarus Pit. There was something terrifyingly spell-binding about watching Ra's rise from the Pit.

"Your sources speak the truth, Grand-Father." Damian spoke carefully. Lying would not be proper; Ra's al Ghul could not be easily fooled.

"And your punishment?"

"Three days of social isolation and unsatisfactory accommodations."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Sir, that is all." Damian's voice lowered to a near mumble.

"I do not have time to deal with you, and neither does your mother."

 _Accept the lecture,_ Damian told himself, biting back a smart comment. _It will be worse if you don't."_

"Think clearly! How could you not want this?" Grand-Father gestured towards the window. "Everything I built up is for the good of the world."

Damian was vaguely reminded of some silly cartoon about lions that Grayson had made him watch, though he could not recall the name. It did not matter.

"I gave it up once before."

"You don't know what you want."

"Yes, I do. Just as Grayson did."

"Grayson did not take the opportunity given to him. Instead he rebelled against his better."

"Do you still consider Wilson his better?"

"At the time he was." Grand-Father waved the topic away. "Do not idolize Grayson. Besides, I am digressing. You make yourself an enemy of mine, and you know the consequences. Your mother gave you life. Therefore, you are obliged to obey her." Grand-Father paused. "I do not want to hurt you, Damian."

"Mother did."

"We do not want to hurt you, but we will if we must."

The logic made sense, but Damian didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to listen to this anymore.

"No one trusted you. You heard the way Drake addressed you, like you were a common peasant, a bastard no one wanted."

That's how everyone treated you, he thought. No one wanted an al Ghul amongst them.

The looks, the glares, as if he were dung on the bottom of their boots... it was not right to be treated so. Disregarding the fact that he was a child, he expected the capes to behave better. Drake was understandably self-righteous, but the others... Grayson...

_He was the only one who accepted me at once. The only one who cared._

"But Grayson—"

"Was only using you to get to us."

Damian could no longer contain his quiet disposition. "No, he was not!"

"How quick you are to defend him," Grand-Father mused. "You change sides so quickly, it is a wonder the fool trusts you at all."

"He is not a fool."

"Don't contradict me." Grand-Father's tone darkened. "I've known him for far longer than you have. Don't talk about things you don't understand."

Damian hated being patronized, but what could he do? Grand-Father was right, of course. He usually was.

"You have to leave him behind, eliminate him if necessary."

"I do not wish to kill him."

"You have everything you need here to succeed. No matter how much you believe your mother and I don't pay attention to you, know that we did. We listened to the news. Even the public believes that you are a dangerous Robin. They don't love you like they loved Grayson's Robin."

Did he want to be loved by the public? He had disdained every reporter who had come up to him, asking if he was—yet again—a different boy underneath the mask. They always compared him to someone else: the former Robins, and especially Drake. How could people like him?

"Why waste your time trying to win them over?" Grand-Father's voice grew lower, more direct. "It's folly, and you know it."

Batman would always be Gotham's protector. Batman would always save Robin, but his father did not save Grayson. What if Grayson made the same mistake?

Father had chosen Grayson for a reason. Out of all of the candidates available for the position of Robin, Grayson had chosen him. Somehow, it made his position more valid. In choosing Damian, Grayson had demonstrated that the role of Robin was not something to be won.

"What do you want me to do?" Damian asked.

Grand-Father sat back down. "We have reason to believe that Grayson survived. No doubt he is on his way back to take you back. We have already made the necessary decisions to eliminate him if he returns. What I want you to do, Damian, is nothing. You will not speak, you will not move against us, you will do nothing. Do I make myself clear?"

Damian briefly entertained the thought of disobeying his grand-father, but what go would it do? Grand-Father was right: no one besides Grayson wanted him as Robin. No one cared.

"I understand, Sir."

"Good. You will be moved to another location. I hope that our next meeting will be on more amiable terms. Have a good rest of your evening."

Even those last words managed to sound cold. In that moment Damian felt small, and helpless because he could not find the right words to defend himself with. How could he argue? No one cared besides Grayson. No one would come to save him. What could Damian do now, with al Ghul agents chasing away Grayson, who would surely be preoccupied with Wilson and his wife?

"And one more thing, young man," Grand-Father said, spinning his chair back around. "You will no longer call yourself Wayne. You are an al Ghul."

Damian merely nodded, unable to find the right words. To what fate he was resigned to, he hadn't the faintest idea, but he would meet it with fortitude.


	22. Rise

"My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest."

-Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

* * *

 

**-SW-**

**Qurac**

Dick didn't tell Slade the plan. Over the past few hours it dawned on Slade that everyone—everyone meaning Dick and Adeline—was in on the plan. Normally that pissed Slade off, but he knew that he wasn't in control of this at all. All he could do was ask politely and hope that neither Dick nor Addie would bite his head off.

"I trust you've worked things out?" Slade asked.

Dick grunted.

"I see." Slade still could not feel guilt, not even if he wanted to. Pity for Dick's predicament, sure, but not guilt.

Could he honestly apologize? Did he have a desire to? No. It wouldn't make any difference. It wouldn't change the past. Dick had won, so why would it matter?

Slade didn't allow these things to weigh him down, while Dick clearly did. But again, anything Slade said would only incur someone's wrath. How odd, since he usually didn't moderate himself before speaking.

Someone knocked. Before anyone could answer, a familiar figure walked straight in, a wide smile on his face. "You called, yes?" Anton had a slight spring in his step, smiling when he saw Slade. "You are missing the little one."

Either Anton had no sense of social conduct because he was a foreigner, or he was just blunt. Even after all these years Slade still couldn't tell.

"Well," Anton said, clapping his hands together, "let's find him! Too bad we cannot use a summoning charm on the boy."

"Or a silencing charm on you," Dick muttered.

"I dropped off your friend in London," Anton said loudly, he had either ignored Dick or didn't hear his comment at all. "Met—what's their names—oh, Knight and Squire! Got their autographs and will sell on Ebay."

Out of the corner of his eye Slade watched Addie gaze at Anton in distrust.

"Your friend Nuri made it out alive," Slade explained. "We flew him out to London to get his injuries treated. I hope you don't mind. It was Dick's doing."

Everything had been done the way she would have wanted it to be done. Well, maybe he should have told her that he planned to give Damian to the al Ghuls, but what was done was done. When Slade said that he needed Dick's help, he hadn't been lying. Yeah, he needed Dick in order to exchange the boy for Addie, but Slade also knew that she would be more receptive to Batman than to Deathstroke.

"Thank you, Dick, that was very kind of you." Adeline did not look at Slade as she turned to Dick. Hmp. "I'm glad someone made it out alive."

 _"She's very pretty, my friend,"_ Anton said in a low voice to Slade, _"I'm glad you found her."_

Slade didn't reply; he didn't know whether Addie understood Russian or not. Dick, however, was listening in, though he tried not to look it. Ignoring Anton's potterhead babbling, Slade looked straight at Dick.

"You all right?"

For the first time in hours Dick looked at him, his face blank. A long time ago Slade had learned to read Dick's body language, learned how to read his emotions for the sake of manipulating him. Now he couldn't read Dick at all.

"I really don't want to talk to you," Dick said quietly.

"You don't think I'm double-crossing you?"

"Not with Adeline watching." Dick spoke sharply, his voice curt and low.

Slightly miffed that his friend was ignoring him, Anton began talking animatedly to Adeline, trying to win her over with a serious discussion of who should win the Quidditch World Cup.

"So that's it, then?" Slade asked. "You're just going to shut me down? When I'm trying to help?"

Dick just ignored him, opting to speak with Anton, who seemed glad to see him. Whatever Dick had in mind, Slade knew that it involved an airplane.

Circumstances had forced him to help Dick. Slade would have never done this of his own accord, if not for Addie's influence. He suspected that when he came home, Wintergreen would merely nod and smile at the thought of helping Dick rescue Damian. Will had never fully approved of Slade's activities, especially the apprenticeship. It was no great secret between them.

Once this was all over Slade would go back to his usual contracts. Being a hero wasn't his style. He could stay at Frannie's place for a bit and talk with her. She was one of the few people he could talk to about Addie. Well, one of the few who put up with him, anyway.

"I know who he called for help," Adeline said.

"I don't care," Slade said. "I'm just along for the ride."

"You do care because you're a nosy bastard."

Slade's face darkened. "What are you trying to say?"

"Stop trying to dangle the kid in front of me, like you're trying to show me that you've repented. I know you haven't."

"Is that what you think?" Slade asked slowly.

"Yes, that is exactly what I think because that is exactly how you work. I can't make you apologize, but don't pretend to apologize."

It was hard to think of this as atonement. Some, looking in from the outside, could easily see this as Slade repenting for his past mistakes. That was not the case, and it would never be the case. Slade still thought that Damian Wayne was an arrogant little brat and that Dick was still (in many respects) naive.

"We're done talking about this," Slade said sharply.

Arguing did nothing. He could stand and shout at her all day, but he would never hurt her. To be honest, though, she seemed tired of arguing as well.

"I'd like to be the one to kill you, but that will change nothing," Adeline said. "Joey is old enough to make up his mind about you, though I tried to protect him as long as I could. I'm only speaking up for Dick because he's too good a person to make you pay for your crimes."  
Heh. Dick too good of a person. It wasn't as if Dick hadn't tried to kill him, hadn't gotten him arrested once or twice, because he had tried. But Slade knew what Addie meant. If Dick had acted like Batman, a supposed "real" hero, then Slade would have been in jail these past ten years. He wouldn't have given Slade a second chance.

"It's time to go." Dick glared at him through the cowl.

Dick's voice assumed a deeper, more violent, guttural growl. And in that moment Slade did not see a frightened young man hiding beneath a legendary cowl; he saw Gotham's Dark Knight in the flesh-and-blood.

**-JN-**

**Crime Ally**

**Gotham City**

Jade didn't particularly mind working for the al Ghuls. After all, they were respectable and paid well. Fighting her own flesh-and-blood, however, was a different matter. She couldn't say that she cared much for Lian, but Roy had trained the girl well. Watching the Star City news channel said as much.

As she expected, Roy nudged Lian to the side, silently telling her to leave. "I'll deal with this, sweetie," he said quietly.

Roy put away his bow; he knew that it would be useless to try to shoot her while they were so close. If he shot her, Jade would shoot back. No point putting Lian in reckless danger.

"CHESHIRE!" Roy shouted. "This is the last time!"

How cute: he was trying to be assertive.

Yet again, they fell into a fight. Jade could tell that he held back, as though afraid he was going to hurt her. Why he did that was a mystery. She was one of the world's greatest assassins. No point in fighting like a sissy. Like always, Jade took advantage of his hesitation to bring him to the ground.

"Maybe I should take Lian back," she said, spitting blood into his face. "I have every right to."

"She hates you."

"Because you taught her to hate me." Cheshire kneed Roy in the stomach. "Whatever happened to you understanding me? Ten years ago you didn't care that I was an assassin."

"I thought you could change." Roy's face darkened. "But you can't, not even with our child."

Jade didn't care that Roy was a cape. True, she had stayed longer with him than she had intended, but she left when she had to. She wasn't interested in being reformed, and hadn't been from the beginning. If he was disappointed because she didn't change for him, then it was good that she left when she did.

"Would you murder me in front of her?" he asked quietly.

"If the price is right."

Her head exploded in pain as Roy headbutted her. Vaguely aware of their daughter watching on in growing horror, Jade decided to end the fight early.

She could leave him brain-dead, or maybe paralyzed. Paralyzed would be better. Then he wouldn't bother her again, and she wouldn't have to go through much custody paperwork. Instead, she opted to give him a good bonk on the head. Roy slumped heavily to the ground, his bow clattering beside him.

"Get away from him, Mom!"

"Arrowette!"

Flash suddenly zoomed by and scooped up the child, struggling to hold her back. He was speaking to someone on his com-link—probably got a distress call from Oracle—but Jade couldn't make out his words.

"Dad never tries to hurt you!" Lian screamed.

Jade glanced at Roy. Killing him would make things so much easier.

But she hadn't been contracted to kill Roy. The al Ghuls just wanted chaos, and killing Roy Harper might bring the wrath of the entire cape community upon her. She would save that kill for another day.

"You're not getting away this time!" Lian yelled.

"You need to go home," Flash whispered hurriedly to her, "this is too dangerous you can't be here—"

"No, she's hurt him too many times. I'm not letting her get away.

Jade paused, mildly amused at her daughter's words. Every bit her father's child, though Jade could see a bit of herself in the girl. However, that amusement was merely momentary, and soon Jade slid back into her professional mode.

"Oracle," Flash said, "Arsenal's down. I need backup."

Lian broke free and rushed towards her mother, her face set and angry. With a lazy swipe of her swords Jade blocked the two arrows Lian shot. In two easy moves Jade overpowered the child. After snapping the little bow in half Jade pulled Lian in close, as if for a hug, her knife quivering at Lian's throat.

"Cheshire," Flash said warningly, "let her go..."

The speedster looked unsure of himself, but Jade wasn't paying attention to him. Her daughter's face was a mere few inches from her own, petulant and determined. As Jade studied her daughter's face, she realized that she felt nothing. No sense of maternal need to care for her. But all the same: Lian clearly inherited Jade's skill with a blade.

"Another time," Jade said, pushing Lian away. "Maybe when you're older."

Jade's communicator bleeped. Her employer was calling, time to go. She wouldn't get paid unless she finished the job.

She took out a handful of smoke bombs and threw them forcefully down. Amid the chaos no one thought much of another explosion.

So she left her former lover lying unconscious on the rooftop.

**-DG-**

**Somewhere over Qurac**

All four of them crammed into Anton's helicopter, each and every person in uniform. Even Adeline appeared every bit a soldier, with her hair up in a braid and her semi-automatic slung across her shoulder.

How Anton had even managed to bring his helicopter over was a mystery, though Dick suspected that Anton had had contracts in Qurac before. How else would the 'copter have been stocked with enough ammunition to blow them all to bits? But maybe for once Dick would just accept the fact that Anton had probably used a summoning charm. At least Anton had answered his call and gleefully accepted Dick's contract. Without Star around Dick needed someone to fly around.

As he sat brooding and waiting, Dick found himself staring out the window, his thought yet again roaming. Dick had told himself over and over again that he would stop thinking about Slade, but somehow he always found himself doing so.

After rescuing Adeline Dick had felt, at times, that he was part of some grotesque, dysfunctional family. Somehow Slade had incorporated him into the broken Wilson family, and sometimes Dick felt as if he was the only one who could knit it back together.

 _I don't want to, though,_ he thought.

But he had encouraged it. He was the one who told Slade to contact his living son, he had helped Slade find Adeline. If, in the grand scheme of things, Dick somehow managed to bring this family back together, would it have been worth it? At the cost of his own comfort and freedom over the course of ten years?

Nearly twenty years into the superhero business and Dick still wondered why he did this: to make a difference in peoples' lives for the better. Isn't that what heroes were supposed to do?

As he waited for everything to fall into place, his thoughts tumbled dangerously over one another. Just as Slade had, in his very twisted paternal way, treated him as an adopted child, so had Adeline treated him like a son. Those rare moments when her face softened, when she treated his injuries and took care of him as he vomited all over the hotel room floor, had made Dick miss his own mother. He didn't mind Adeline. She was there when he needed her, and she would be gone once this was all over. There was no conniving, nothing that she wanted in return for her kindness. She was everything that Slade should have been.

Again and again Dick had tried to bury his terrible experiences behind him, and in his own way had moved on. But at times like these, when he stopped to think, he suddenly grew very sad and felt a great weight in his chest. He would not allow this sadness to consume him, would not allow this sadness to permeate his friends. Part of him still asked why these things happened, why he couldn't remember the darker moments in great detail, why he sometimes became the very thing he hated.

There were times when it was so difficult not to act like Slade, especially when he was dealing with Damian. Times when Dick wanted to hit him when words didn't get through, to use every bit of mental conniving to make Damian feel worse, to make him feel _something._

At the last possible moment Dick would check himself, hold his tongue and restrain his fist. It was hard when Damian wouldn't listen, wouldn't do the things he was told to do. That's not to say that Dick hadn't used the same coercive techniques, hadn't manipulated Damian, because he had. And he hadn't realized that until now.

And yet he understood that he needed to allow Damian to make mistakes, and he needed to help Damian understand that mistakes are part of life.

Overcoming his own problems wasn't the hard part. Making sure that he protected Damian, took care of him, made sure he grew up to be a good person superseded everything else. Starfire would take good care of Mari. Without Dick's experiences, without the things he had suffered in life he would not have been able to relate to Damian. And even though the kid could be a selfish, arrogant, conceited little brat Dick loved him like his own child. Despite his personality flaws, despite the mistakes, Dick had learned to stop hating Damian as he had learned to stop hating himself.

And for that he could thank Slade.

A quick glance at his watch told him that it was time. He picked up a piece of paper and blew it away. A soft horn sounded. The paper vanished. Dick allowed his hands to fall to his side. The message had been sent.

 _"Deshi basara,"_ Dick whispered softly. "Rise."

**-DW-**

**Location Unknown**

Damian didn't know where he was being taken, and at the moment he knew that it didn't matter. There were no windows in the back of the van save for the grate near the driver, which he was too much to look through. Damian suspected that another two or three armored cars followed them, since Mother and Grand-Father were traveling with him as well.

The seat was uncomfortable, the back of the van too cold, but it was useless to complain. He gazed off into space, lost in the rhythm of the van rumbling along the road.

A quiet horn sounded.

He snapped his head up, looking for the source of the noise, certain that he had heard it before. A piece of paper fluttered above his head. Damian allowed it to fall into his hand.

Music suddenly filled the air, loud and powerful and euphonious. He craned his neck and found the air above him filled with strips of paper, falling from little black holes that disappeared as quickly as they came. They came so quickly that he didn't know what to do, so he sat still.

He probably looked quite silly, covered in fluttering paper on the car seat, but he didn't care. Damian lifted one of the papers to the faint light and squinted.

They were letters. Not from Grayson, but from people. Letters that he had tossed whenever Grayson offered them to him. Letters to Robin the Boy Wonder, not Damian Wayne.

The horn sounded again, loud and joyous, before fading into silence. One last piece of paper floated into his waiting hand. A picture of the girl he had failed to save stared back at him.

_If I don't get the chance to see you again, remember this: you've changed lives whether you know it or not, and for the better. I hope I've made you see how rewarding this is to me, and I hope it has been rewarding for you. Remember that you've changed lives. Now change yours._

_-Dick_

Damian looked to the ceiling, as though hoping for something more, and listened intently for the sound of the horn, but all he saw was the van's steel ceiling.

He wanted to vomit. At that moment he could not describe his feelings, could not possibly emulate how he felt if anyone dared to inquire. All he understood was how impossibly helpless he felt in the scheme of things. How he could not, for the first time in his life, make a coherent plan of attack. That the more he thought about staying with his Mother, the more upset he felt, and the more upset he felt the more his emotions sprawled on and on and on until he could no longer control them like a little helpless child.

Damian hunched over and placed his face in his hands, the letters about his feet rustling about in jerky eddies.


	23. Quips

_"Where you go I go_   
_What you see I see_   
_I know I'd never be me without the security_   
_Of your loving arms, keeping me from harm_   
_Put your hand in my hand and we'll stand."_

-Skyfall, Adele.

* * *

 

**-LH-**

**Gotham City**

"I'll get Arsenal back to Alfred," Flash said. "Arrowette, stay here for just a sec. I'll come back for you."

Once Flash zoomed, Lian began to run, oblivious to the growing chaos around her. Every fiber of her being screamed "BAD IDEA!" Did she care? Nope.

Her mother had never been part of her life much, not since Roy took Lian away to raise her on his own. Ever since Lian had discovered that her mother was responsible for so many deaths and for the ultimate destruction of a certain Quraci city, she had scorned her. From what she could tell, her mother was also somewhat responsible for hurting Uncle Dick a long time ago.

 _"Arrowette!"_ Oracle snapped, the earpiece in Lian's ear shrieking. "You get back to Dick's place right now! That is an order!"

Lian plucked out her ear pieces and crushed them with the heel of her boot. She paused for a moment, considering the encounter with her mother. She hadn't fought her like that before. So weird. Sure, Cheshire fought her dad a lot, but that was different. Although Lian knew that she was very young, she still didn't like being beaten. And in her profession, getting beaten could mean getting dead.

For some reason, Lian felt responsible for her mother's actions, even though she knew that she wasn't at fault. How should she go about defeating Cheshire? Directly fighting her mother was out of the question. That's what everyone else tried to do.

She shook her head free of those thoughts and continued to run. Any moment now she would be spotted, whether by Flash or the al Ghuls' goons, she didn't exactly know. What she did know was that Oracle—and probably the rest of the Justice League—was going to lecture her once this was all over.

Lian followed her mother's trail, easily avoiding the thugs out on Gotham's streets. After a while she saw her mother meet up with several people, speaking to them in low voices. Lian crouched in the shadows of a balcony.

She spotted several oil drums near the goons. For a moment she entertained the notion of calling for help (somehow), before drawing out an arrow tipped with an explosive. She pulled the bow taut, the red feather brushing her cheek.

She let the arrow fly.

**-JH-**

**Holden Household**

**San Francisco, California**

Jared Holden leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee as he watched the evening news. Any time the Titans appeared on the news he watched, finding it strange that they thought of him as a friend.

"Civilians are advised to stay away from downtown Jump City," said the news anchor. "The Teen Titans have been engaged for several hours, and the superpowered battle will likely not end soon."

"Surprise, surprise."

Sometimes Jared had the disobliging habit of talking back to the news, a habit which annoyed his wife greatly. She stood near him, glancing disinterestedly at the television.

"Why do you watch that?" she asked, not annoyed, but somewhat exasperated. "You always keep up with the capes."

"Ingrained habit." He turned the volume up as the screen switched to footage of Batman.

"Batman has been spotted in Qurac, alongside the mercenary Deathstroke. Although Batman's presence in Qurac is unclear, Robin has not been by Batman's side.

Jared choked on his coffee.

"Batman's in Qurac," Jared set down his mug. "How stupid can you be?"

"Why do you talk like you know him?" Andrea asked.

He had never told his wife anything. "Because I do."

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't know him," Jared said slowly, closing the kitchen door so that their daughter wouldn't hear, "Batman wouldn't exist. Not that Batman, at least."

"What?"

It wasn't his secret to tell, but who didn't know? Once Jared realized that Dick was Batman everything made so much more sense. Everything about Batman—from the stylized flips and the design of the utility belt—screamed Dick Grayson.

"What aren't you telling me, Jared?" Andrea asked.

When did he expect to tell her his story? Jared had promised that he wouldn't reveal any secret identities.

"Dad..." Jared glanced at the television again. "I should have told you why my Dad died, how he died..."

How silly, he hadn't even told his wife how his dad had died. It was a heroic death, a quiet death, one that Jared should be proud of. Shortly after the funeral he had gotten a surprise visit from a blue-clad alien named Saint Walker.

_"Who the hell are you?" Jared demanded._

_"I came to speak on behalf of the rest of the community," said the alien. "My name is Saint Walker. I do not expect that you have heard of me. Most humans have not, for I do not normally patrol this sector."_

_"What community?"_

_"The cape community. Green Lantern asked me to speak to you."_

_Talking to a real live alien. This was so weird._

_"Why?"_

_"Dick Grayson is the heart and soul of Earth's superhero community. Understandably, he did not speak to you at the funeral?"_

_"No, he didn't."_

_"Your father was a great man, Jared Holden. Civilian deaths do not go unnoticed, not in all of space and time. I am here to formally acknowledge your father's sacrifice on behalf of the Justice League and the Lantern Corps."_

_Jared didn't know what to say. So what? Nothing changed._

_"The Lantern Corps, huh?" Jared pointed to the ring on Saint Walker's finger. "You're not a Green Lantern, are you?"_

_"No, I am not. I came because your father was a potential candidate for the Blue Lantern Corps. If it is any consolation, young Holden, he could have been chosen if this sector needed hope." Saint Walker searched his face, his dark eyes unreadable. "He will be remembered. I consider him an honorary member for what he has done."_

_Jared didn't know anything about the Blue Lantern Corps, and he didn't intend to ask._

_"That is not to say you have done nothing, Jared Holden. I sense rage in you, anger for what has happened. You must clear that rage inside you, or else you will never be at peace."_

_Delicate blue light suffused the room. As it faded away, so did Saint Walker._

"Jared?" Andrea broke him out of his reverie. "Did you save Batman's life? Did your Dad try to help?"

"Yes. That's why I was shot."

It had happened a long time ago. There was nothing to be done about it now. Having such a long stretch of time between then and now allowed Jared to speak calmly. "They can't keep this up for long," Jared said, stepping closer to the TV. "Someone's going to crack."

"This isn't your fight."

"They're losing right now," Jared said.

"They'll figure something out. They always do."

Jared studied the footage. Someone was tapping into the communication system. Jared vaguely remembered tinkering with the Titan communicators a few years back so that this wouldn't happen. Of course, if he had managed to get past JLA security, then someone with more resources obviously could.

He took out the black-and-yellow Titan communicator. Dick gave these things out like free candy, and like the rest of the honorary Titans, Jared had received one for saving Dick's life.

A streak of green light lit up the sky, bright enough to briefly illuminate the kitchen. Even though he hadn't grown up in Jump City, he had lived in California long enough to recognize that characteristic streak of light. "The cavalry has arrived."

The communicators were all connected. There was a self-destruct component in each one, just for the occasion. Jared screwed open the back of his communicator. It took him all of two seconds to locate what he was looking for.

"They're going to hate me for this," Jared said, shaking his head. "But someone's tampering with communications."

Jared smashed the chip with his screwdriver. The communicator hissed and sparked, spluttering angrily before lying still. He turned off the TV, scooped up the remains of the communicator, and walked to his office to dispose of it properly. Andrea said nothing. He didn't expect her to.

Jared, his family, the whole world was watching this conspiracy unfold. Perhaps when this was all over he would give the Bats a ring on the communicator and give them the civilian perspective.

**-DW-**

**Somewhere in Qurac**

Damian felt along the metal walls, bracing himself as the van slowed to a stop. Were they at their destination already? Damian could not tell, but it did not matter anyway.

He tensed as one of the guards slid open the lock on the car door. It was now or never. Once he made a decision, there was no turning back.

Thinking about everything bad that could happen would only hold him back. Early in life Talia had taught Damian that, if he ever wanted anything in life, he needed to make it happen. If he wanted to be Robin, it was his duty to be Robin. He would fulfill his legacy, and there was nothing Talia could do to stop him.

Once the door opened, Damian practically flew out of his seat and tackled the surprised guard. Knowing that his weight wouldn't be enough to take out the guard, Damian moved quickly. An elbow to the face and a knee to the guts would do nicely. Somewhere at the back of his mind he thought how silly it was that so many men were needed to take down a ten-year-old. None of them opened fire or unsheathed their swords, which made Damian's task so much easier. He ducked underneath the legs of his attacker and kicked the man's legs.

Emerging from the dark interior of the car into the sunlight disorientated him. The hot sun beat down on his unprotected back, the heat from the ground rising in waves. He squinted in the sudden sunshine, trying to force himself to adjust quickly, else he would be incapacitated within seconds. Nothing but a flat, expansive, desolate desert-land stared back at him.

Damian pulled out a gun from one guard's holster and fired a strategic shot into the engine of a nearby car.

The world lit up in flames.

Damian tossed the gun away and flung himself to the ground as the car exploded, the terrific noise shaking his very atoms. Embers and dust and dirt fell on top of him. A secondary explosion forced him to roll away, his ears ringing.

Should he run away— _like a coward_ —or stand and fight? The world swayed as he waddled across the desert ground, the shimmering heat distorting his vision. The explosion had knocked out one of the men near him. Damian bent and took the man's sword, considering its weight.

As the dust cleared away he saw his mother. Talia stepped out of the car, slowly unsheathing her sword. The tip of Damian's sword dragged across the dusty ground; he was much too small for the weapon. She held up a hand to stop her guards before facing her son. "You like to make a fool of yourself?"

"I don't like to be controlled. That does not make me a fool."

She cocked her head to the side. "You have no more warnings."

"I did not expect any."

Damian's grip on the sword loosened. He would not kill anyone, not even his own mother. He had made a promise to Dick that he would let go of his old ways. The slight wind pushed the hair back from his mother's beautiful face as she stepped closer to him, within killing distance.

"You will go quietly," Talia said.

Damian punched her in the face.

Talia's mouth hung open slightly as she turned her face towards him again. His fist throbbed painfully as he stood there, his face determined. If he had never seen her this furious before, he had certainly just incurred his mother's cold wrath.

"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," she said quietly, her eyes narrowing.

Why in all the universe did it take Damian so long to realize that his mother's reputation meant nothing? He stood as tall as he could, flexing his fingers, as though he meant to hit his mother again.

"I only wish I'd done it sooner."

The fight lasted mere seconds. They scuffled, Damian trying desperately to go on the offensive, his actions becoming more erratic, more desperate. Soon he found himself pinned to the ground, the side of her arm pressing down on his neck.

"You are too much trouble," she said, her voice low and deadly. "It's a pity I have to kill you. You could have been great."

"I hoped I proved a villain to the House of al Ghul, Mother."

Talia raised her sword. All at once Damian could see how she was going to kill him. It would be quick, just a slit throat. Well, if she did it right and didn't leave him bleeding in the desert. Killed by his own mother. Now that was something that belonged in a Greek tragedy.

The roar of an approaching helicopter shook his eardrums, gunshots peppering the air as someone within began shooting at Talia's men. Talia's men shot back, shouting incomprehensible orders to each other.

Something struck Talia's shoulder, knocking her away from Damian. Her sword flew out of her hand and landed several feet away.

What just—?

Something blocked out the sun. Damian craned his head and saw a man in black plummeting towards the earth, as though falling to his death was as natural as breathing. There was only one man he knew who could fly through the air with relative ease.

Gotham's Dark Knight bounced off the roof of one of the vans, used one of Talia's henchmen as a landing cushion, and landed perfectly beside him. Standing up nonchalantly, brushing dust from his sleeves, Damian looked Batman up and down once before speaking.

"Holy Hell, Batman, what took you so long?"

Grayson stood shocked for a moment, his masked eyes wide. A slow smile lit up his entire face, and for once Damian did not say that Batman should not smile.

"Just got delayed. Had to pick up some doughnuts and coffee on the way here."

Talia pushed herself to her feet. Blood ran out of the corner of her mouth, and a bruise on her cheek from Damian's fist was beginning to darken. She glared at Grayson, fury evident in every syllable of her ensuing words. "Impressive. You managed to survive, like a cockroach."

"What can I say: it looks good on my resume."

"You always had a big mouth, Grayson." Talia raised her hand. Her remaining men circled them. "Allow me to shut it for good."

"Now that would be a real tragedy," Dick replied. "Won't it, Robin?"

Damian felt naked without his Robin costume, his mask, his utility belt. He didn't feel like Robin, but perhaps that was not the point. He was Robin regardless of the mask.

"You are annoying, Batman."

"This is all very cute, but I'd rather not banter." Talia lifted a hand. Her men cocked their weapons. "If you must interfere, Grayson, then you will die with him."

Though it did not matter because they were surrounded by mercenaries, Grayson stepped closer to Damian, ready to shield him from Talia.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Grayson said. "I might have you surrounded."

"To the contrary, you are the one surrounded."

Every mercenary's gun was trained upon them, but Damian didn't care. Grayson had come for him, saved him.

"You're not going to hurt anyone else," Damian said. "I will make sure of it."

Dick tossed Damian something. A metal staff. As the staff extended in his hand, Damian realized that this was Dick's old staff; the one he used when he was Robin. In that moment Damian did not care if Dick was being sentimental, he did not care that Batman had to come rescue him. The fact that Dick had come back was the only thing that mattered.

"You ready, Robin?"

"Since the first day of spring." Damian assumed an offensive stance, much to the amusement of his mother.

"Fire at will."

This was it, it was all over.

To Damian's great surprise two other people descended upon the scene, wielding impressive weapons and yelling incomprehensible obscenities. Startled, Damian looked about him and found Wilson and his woman taking out his mother's men with ridiculous ease.

Batman took out his own bo-staff, mirroring Damian's offensive stance. "Let's rumble."


	24. Vindicated

**-LH-**

**Crime Alley**

**Gotham City**

Lian flung herself behind a concrete wall as the oil cans erupted into flames. She curled into a ball to protect herself from the sudden wave of heat, knowing all the while that those pained shouts were her fault. When the burst of flames died down, Lian dared to look again.

At this distance she couldn't tell if she had seriously hurt anyone. Some of the goons were moving. Cheshire's bright green kimono uniform stuck out in the darkness. Fire singed her uniform and the edges of her mask.

Cheshire stared straight at Lian, eyes wide with shock. It occurred to Lian that she could fit another explosive to her bow and aim it at her mother.

_You're not a killer, Lian._

That was the hard part, then, wasn't it? Figuring out how to take down someone without killing or hurting them? The police did it all the time, but the police had the law on their side. Lian had to act, and act fast.

The two of them moved at once. With her lightning-fast reflexes and a long-range weapon, Lian had the advantage. For now.

One, two, three arrows flew through the air. She had Cheshire pinned to the wall, the arrows dangerously close to piercing skin.

Those arrows wouldn't hold her mother for long. Lian scrambled down to where Cheshire was. Lian ran, blood pounded loudly in her ears, unsure if there were more goons just waiting to knock her out.

Last time, she had been momentarily petrified, awed by her mother's presence. It had been as if she had realized, right then and there, the enormity of her mother's reputation. Moments after Cheshire had left, Lian realized something: she was part of a legacy. Her mother and father were respected people in their respective professions.

Lian had hated the idea of her mother from an early age. Sometimes she hoped that—if she did get the opportunity to spend some time with her mom—that Cheshire would be someone good. Someone fun to hang out with, someone who felt that love was beyond all alliances.

"Good night, Cheshire."

Lian sprayed a can of knock-out gas into Cheshire's face. The older woman slumped into unconsciousness. She fished for a flare in her quiver, her hands shaking. Once she found it she fitted it to her bow and shot it into the air, signaling to the other capes where she was.

**-TD-**

**Downtown**

**Jump City, California**

The Teen Titans were bloodied and bruised. Although they had expected an attack from the al Ghuls, there really hadn't been a way to predict when they would attack. Tim was at his wit's end. He normally felt like this during any heated battle. Not so much with the HIVE Academy, or a silly villain with Dr. Light, but always with the Big Bads. And Tim couldn't help but feel as though this was his fault. He had called Ra's; he might have spurred his wrath.

Tim hissed in pain as something in his utility belt sizzled and spat out sparks.

"Communications are down!" Tim dropped the communicator. "We really have to upgrade these things."

Emergency protocol 201. Dick did it once to cut communications while the Titans were fighting the Brotherhood of Evil. Anyone with access to a Titans communicator could do it if the need arose. If a Titan did it, then they probably had good reason to. Tim would look into it later.

The battle downtown had, as usual, ripped apart the block. Part of him was vaguely aware that someone would complain of damage costs. Those lawsuits always sucked.

"They just keep coming!" Blue Beetle shouted.

Someone yanked him backwards by the cape. Tim flailed for a moment before composing himself. He twisted around, grabbed his cape and yanked back, his fist meeting the face of his attacker. His knuckles throbbed as the goon slumped unconscious to the ground.

 _Who broke down communications?_ Tim thought. He needed to know. Perhaps someone was messing with them.

Something streaked across the sky and pummeled to the street, bits of cement spraying everywhere. The force of the landing nearly blew Tim off his feet, but he bent his knees and braced himself against the sudden wind. As the dust settled he peered at the newcomer.

"Starfire!"

Tendrils of green fire sizzled from her glowing eyes and tight fists.

Wasn't she supposed to be on Tamaran? Wasn't she supposed to be keeping intergalactic relations peaceful? If she came down to help, then why wasn't she in Qurac? Tim's brain churned out question after question, but no answers came to him. Kind of hard in the middle of a battle.

Starfire didn't pay attention to him. The other Titans stood still, memorized by her presence. It wasn't often the younger Titans got to see the Tamaranean powerhouse. Seeing her there, brimming with power, brought a new sense of awe. Starfire was no longer a skinny teenager, but a very powerful woman with the might of an entire planet's population behind her.

"You will not harm my friends."

Sweet girl, but man, one does not simply anger the resident Tamaranean.

**-DG-**

**Somewhere in Qurac**

They moved in tandem. Something just seemed to click between them. They didn't have to talk, didn't have to signal to the other.

Chaos erupted all around them, but Dick had seen worse. Spraying bullets and angry men and swinging swords didn't faze him. It didn't even matter that he had been shot; Batman didn't mind chaos. Batman and Robin punched the lights out of anyone who dared get in their way as they ran towards Talia, punching people gleefully out of their way.

A deep, angry male voice nearly stopped them. "Desist, or I will destroy you."

Well, about time Ra's showed up.

"Ra's." Dick allowed himself to smirk. "Sorry we started the party without you."

Without hesitation Ra's pulled out his sword, a grim expression hardening his already ugly face. Dick had fought Ra's alongside Bruce one too many times not to recognize that pissed-off look.

"Robin, go with Adeline," Dick said, gently pushing Damian away. "I'll deal with this loser."

The al Ghuls would go after Damian with a vengeance. If Damian had the chance to escape with Adeline and Slade, then Dick wanted him to take it. Dick had made that clear to Adeline and Slade before they had ambushed the al Ghuls.

"But—" Damian began.

"Do as I say," Dick said, his voice hard. "Now."

To Dick's relief Damian followed his instructions. If there was anyone Dick knew Damian was still afraid of, it was Ra's al Ghul. Talia was one thing, but Ra's scared the pants off of other criminal masterminds.

Besides, Dick still had one or two things to settle with Ra's. The mastermind stills refused to acknowledge Dick as Batman, even when it was clear that Bruce wasn't going to come back.

"What? Do you hate messing with the peasants?" Dick hopped from one foot to the other and held up his fists. "Come on, Ra's: say it to my face."

"You've meddled with my plans for the last time, circus peasant!"

Ra's shed his shirt. _Oh, he means business._ Dick charged at Ra's, swinging his bo-staff crazily. In a matter of moments, Ra's knocked the bo-staff out of Dick's hand. As Dick rolled to the side, he picked up a fallen sword. Dick grabbed a fistful of his cape to hold it still, delicately holding the sword upright in his other hand.

"En garde!"

Dick's nearly-perfect footwork kicked up eddies of desert dust. Ra's al Ghul and Batman locked in an epic battle. Brought back good memories. Metal clanged on metal as their swords crossed violently.

"You underestimate me, Ra's," Dick said. "I can swing from one weapon to another without even thinking."

Silly banter always made Ra's grumpy. That sort of thing was for children, for lesser villains with a taste for the theatrical. Ra's absolutely refused to participate, so Dick was forced to make up for him.

"I know something you don't," Dick said, "I'm not just right-handed."

He transferred the sword to his other hand and began to attack Ra's. Dick had no intention of killing Ra's, but messing with him was tons of fun. Infuriated, Ra's slammed his blade into Dick's, pressing down until both blades were near Dick's face.

"What makes you think you're going to win?" Ra's asked, his voice deadly. "You and your pathetic jokes will die in this godforsaken desert."

Dick hooked his leg around the back of Ra's' knees and tripped him. The two of them dropped their swords and tumbled across the dusty ground as they fought, each trying to get the other in a death grip. As Dick drew back his fist, Ra's jammed the palm of his hand right into Dick's chin. Dick spluttered and rolled over onto his back. Only when Dick felt cold steel cut into his neck did he realize that Ra's had his sword again. Wonderful.

"You disgrace the name of Batman," Ra's growled. "Such a pity, Grayson. You could have been great."

"As what? An assassin? That's all you seem to be interested in." Dick flinched as a trickle of blood ran down his neck. "Besides, I don't want to impress you, you giant prick. You keep comparing me to him, but I'm not Bruce Wayne. He entrusted the cape and cowl to me, and I don't intend to let him down."

With a sudden burst of energy, Dick pushed Ra's away from him, kneed the criminal mastermind in the gut, and grabbed Ra's sword. "Sorry about this."

Dick slammed the pummel of the blade across Ra's' head. The violence of it surprised both of them, and Dick couldn't help but feel a bit sick as he looked down at Ra's. One glance told Dick that he had given Ra's a terrible concussion, one that would require hospitalization after this was all over.

 _He's not dead,_ Dick thought. _He'll find a way to revive himself._

Quickly, to avoid getting attacked by hovering al Ghul agents, Dick dragged Ra's' body to the side, away from the fighting. He handcuffed the criminal mastermind and stuffed him into the back of a van.

"Impressive."

Slade appeared behind him, covered in blood and gore. At this point it was useless to tell him that he would prefer no bloodshed.

"Holding up?" Slade asked.

"Yeah, no thanks to you."

The heat cracked Dick's lips and sucked the moisture from his mouth. Being in a suit made entirely of kevlar didn't help. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his uniform. Gross.

"It's nothing two old friends can't handle," Slade said.

"You're not my friend."

An al Ghul agent clambered to the top of another van, carrying an assault rifle with him. His friend climbed into the front seat, turned the car on and began to turn it around. Dick glanced at the van, wondering how to take it out. Several forgotten assault rifles lay on the desert ground. A stupid idea crossed his mind. Dick dodged an oncoming attacker and dove for one of the rifles. All of his training as an assassin and police officer seemed to have prepared him for this moment.

He cocked the assault rifle and lifted it to eye level. Bruce would never have considered this an option; the man hardly ever touched a gun. He fired two shots into the two nearest tires. The sudden imbalance forced the agent to topple off.

Almost immediately after he fired Dick dismantled the weapon and tossed it to the side. A gunshot cracked the air next to him. Dick flipped over and froze. A trickle of blood streamed down Slade's face. The older man pulled off his mask, touched the injury.

"You've been shot," Dick said, "in the head."

Yeah, Dick didn't like Slade, but he didn't want the man dead. Dick didn't want anyone dead.

"I've had worse," Slade said. "Things have changed, haven't they? Nice shooting, by the way. Good to see you've been practicing."

Slade stretched his neck twice before jumping back into the fray. Didn't matter if Dick had seen Slade as a skeleton during Trigon's brief rule—it was still freakin' creepy to see Slade's alarmingly-fast healing rate.

Trying to get that image of Slade's bloody head out of his mind, Dick turned to look for Damian, who was currently engaged in combat against his mother with Ms. Kane. Adeline had every right to fight her captors, who killed her men and nearly started a war with America.

Dick seemed to watch everything in slow motion. Bullets flew through the air and whistled as they passed by. A vague notion that this was what a battlefield felt like ran through his mind as he ran towards Damian, his stupid cape flaring behind him.

**-JT-**

**Crime Ally**

**Gotham City**

Batgirl and the Red Hood patrolled Crime Alley in the wake of a new wave of attacks.

"Everyone else is downtown," Brown said. "Flash, the Arrows, almost everyone who isn't on an intergalactic mission."

"So Gotham's crawling with capes?" Jason demanded.

A sudden yellow flare lit up the night sky.

"Oracle," Brown said, touching her comm-link, "what happened?"

She listened for a few seconds, her expression hardening.

"What's going on?" Jason asked.

Jason didn't like being out of the loop. If Dick forced him to work with the Bats, then Jason wanted in on everything. Probably picked up that habit from Bruce. Dick was always the golden child. Though to be fair, if Jason had become Batman, like he wanted to, he'd probably keep everyone else in the dark as well.

"Arsenal's down," Brown said. "He's been down for a few minutes."

"Surprise, surprise."

"I'll get Arrowette," Brown said. "Batgirl out."

Jason wanted to do things his way, but Dick told the rest of the Bats to keep an eye on him. Well, whoop-de-freaking-doo.

"I do not," Jason snapped, barely pausing to elbow the goon behind him, "have time to babysit!"

"I didn't ask for your help, Jaybird." Brown lifted up her cape and narrowed her eyes. "Remember, I'm the gosh-darn Batgirl."

Without waiting for a reply, Brown backflipped into the darkness.

And Brown said that he was the childish one.

**-DW-**

**Somewhere in Qurac**

Adeline Kane was an adequate partner. Damian had to admit that much. He admired anyone who could hold their own in battle, and though she had gotten herself captured, it was clear that she did not go down without a fight.

She did, however, have some sort of maternal instinct that prevented her from allowing him to fight Talia. Although Kane never said anything explicit, she attacked milliseconds before he did.

 _I want to be back with Grayson,_ Damian thought. _We work well together._

Strange, really, how Damian never thought he would think that.

A strangled cry of pain rattled his eardrums. Ms. Kane stood still, the tip of her gun smoking and still pointed at Talia. Bright red blood soaked Talia's shirt as she clutched at her shoulder.

"That was for my men, al Ghul," Kane said in a deadly voice. "Shall I give you a bullet for everyone who died? Even your father's Lazarus Pits won't be able to save you after I'm done with you."

Damian was suddenly aware of how guilty he felt about Ms. Kane and her men. She had come here as a civilian, attempting to do her job quickly and efficiently. Then his mother came in, killed Kane's men and kidnapped her, all with the end goal of getting Damian back here.

"Ms. Kane?" Damian asked.

Kane restrained herself and lowered her weapon. "Keep an eye on her, Damian. She's done."

Damian's grip on the bo-staff tightened. Every injustice, every threat, every harsh word Talia had thrown at him reverberated in Damian's mind. He could beat his mother to death. It was stupid, really: Grayson forbade guns, but anything could be turned into a weapon. Surely Grayson knew that, given his assassin training?

Talia clutched her shoulder, blood seeping through her fingers. Was that real fear on his mother's face?

He raised his bo-staff. Grayson wasn't here. He wouldn't know, or at least, he wouldn't be there to stop Damian. Besides, Ms. Kane had already shot her. What difference would it make if Damian hurt her?

"Don't ever hurt my friends again," Damian said.

Damian wanted to end this. All of it. She had hurt so many people before, and he didn't want her to hurt anyone else again. What better way than to eliminate her? Damian began to swing, his bo-staff headed straight for Talia's face.

_"Robin!"_

Real anger colored Grayson's voice. The older man caught Damian's wrist and held it tightly. Grayson's voice softened. "You're better than that."

Damian dropped the sword.

The helicopter that the Wilsons had arrived in hovered above them. Anton's heavily accented voice rang out as he positioned his guns towards Talia. "Stay right there, al Ghul, or I will avada kedavra your sorry ass!"

"And where was he during all this?" Grayson asked, glancing back at Wilson.

"He couldn't get a clear shot until now." Wilson shrugged. "And he wanted to be paid extra."

They had won. Damian couldn't believe it. Even Anton the annoying Russian pilot couldn't get him angry now.

"Call off your men, Talia," Dick said. "You've lost."

In all of the years Damian had known her, he knew that she wouldn't give up without a fight, not even when she had lost. But maybe—just maybe—she would lose this time.

"You won't kill me, so what's the point?" Talia asked.

"The Justice League have been notified. They're coming."

"They can't hold us!"

"They can try."

Deep down, Dick knew that Bruce had disapproved of his decision to let Slade go. If he had been in Bruce's place—as he sort of was now—Grayson knew that he would have put Slade in jail. Talia deserved to be in jail.

"You can't let her go free," Grayson said. "She tried to kill you. She will kill you."

"You allowed Wilson to walk free."

"Talia doesn't care about you. She doesn't care about anything except her father's empire."

Killing her would end it all. Though he promised Grayson that he would not kill anyone, Damian still believed that killing was sometimes necessary.

"Tell your men to stand down, Talia," Dick said. _"Now."_

Damian copied Grayson's assertive stance, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.

"Stand down," Talia said finally. "All of you."

The chaos melted. Ra's was down, Talia was down, what would be the point? Damian sniffed in disdain. Serve your sentence well, Mother."

Jail would keep her confined, and for now that would suffice. Perhaps an international justice system would sentence her to death for her crimes against humanity.

"Don't copy Grayson's cheek," Talia said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, this isn't over. You've made some very bad enemies, Damian. This will never be over."

"For now it is," Damian replied.

The helicopter landed near them. There was no way the four of them could take Ra's and Talia and their company of merry men into custody. The best they could do was restrain them, leave a tracking device and all of their information exposed to the Justice League.

"Hands in the air, _now!"_ Grayson snapped, turning towards Talia's men. "Drop your weapons and step away from each other!"

Oh, right. Grayson had been a policeman. "We're done here," Grayson said. "Are you all right, Damian?"

Damian looked up towards Dick, his face unbelieving. Dick held Damian's head in his hands, thumbing away blood. At that moment Dick didn't even bother to see if the other agents were alive, if Slade and Adeline had killed them. He told them not to.

"I'm fine," Damian replied. "Better than I've been in a long time."

Dick squeezed Damian's shoulders gently and smiled. "It's time to go home."


	25. The Parting of Ways

"Who can quit young lives after being long in company with them, and not desire to know what befell them in their after-years? For the fragment of a life, however typical, is not the sample of an even web: promises may not be kept, and an ardent outset maybe followed by declension; latent powers may find their long-waited opportunity; a past error may urge a grand retrieval."

George Eliot, Middlemarch

* * *

 

Chapter25:The Parting of Ways

**-AP-**

**Penthouse**

**Gotham City**

Alfred couldn't believe that he was thinking this, but he was going to miss Wintergreen. Wintergreen had surprised Alfred, but what had Alfred expected, anyway? For him to be like Slade? But perhaps it was this surprise that made Alfred like him. The man had an interesting life, and while gruff he certainly wasn't unpleasant.

The other man still walked with a cane. He would be using that for a while. As Alfred stood in the hallway, seeing his guest out, Wintergreen stopped and turned around.

"So this is it?" Wintergreen asked.

"I suppose so. Will you be seeing our mutual friend again?" Alfred asked.

"Dick?" Wintergreen thought for a moment. "Probably not. Before I was attacked, I hadn't spoken to him for ten years. We're not really friends, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering."

"He is a good young man," Wintergreen said. "He didn't have to save me. Thank you for treating me kindly, given my history."

"You were not the problem."

They had not spoken of Slade. Not directly, at any rate. The longer Alfred spoke to Wintergreen, the more he realized how much Wintergreen disapproved of his friend. Merely by speaking with Wintergreen, Alfred discovered why it had been so hard for Dick to talk about his past.

"I don't think we can be friends," Wintergreen said. "Our bosses will continue to do what they do best. And we'll stick with them. We both know that."

Sometimes Alfred felt as if it were all an endless cycle: Batman would put the villains in jail or Arkham, and once they broke out the process would start all over again. Alfred had been afraid that the same thing would happen to Dick, that he would suffer that same way Master Bruce had done while he was alive.

"I'm just glad we could find some middle ground," Alfred replied.

Wintergreen was not entirely blameless—he had cooperated with Slade, had participated as Dick's captor. One could not ignore that. But the gracious way Dick acted towards Wintergreen—not only forgiving, but also caring—changed everything. If Dick could do that, he had truly moved on. He acted like the hero he was supposed to be. Alfred had taken that into account every time he spoke with Wintergreen.

"I'll be leaving now." Wintergreen motioned towards the cabby. "I can't miss my flight."

"Of course. Take care of the Wilson children for me," Alfred said. "I like them."

Wintergreen nodded. "They're good kids. They're all good kids."

The cabby bleeped. Alfred stayed just a few moments longer to see Wintergreen off. It was entirely possible that they would never interact again, though Alfred wasn't sad about that. After all, Wintergreen was right: they would go their separate ways.

So they parted in awkward silence.

**-SB-**

**Jason's Apartment**

**Gotham City**

"Is this where you live?" Steph looked around the apartment and noted the cracked, dirty walls and the pile of dishes on the kitchen counter. "You can do better than this, Jason."

"I didn't invite you here," Jason snapped. "You invited yourself."

He didn't kick her out, either. Stephanie was surprised that he had even let her accompany him back to his apartment. Maybe after this business with the al Ghuls he didn't know what to do. His weapons supply was gone. Kaput.

A unilateral decision to monitor Jason and his whereabouts had somehow landed Steph in the first watch. Make sure he got home okay after being thrown about by al Ghul agents, that was her job. Both of them were dressed in civvies; it wasn't as if they had anything to hide from each other.

As Jason lumbered around the kitchen, Steph rifled through his late bills and overdue rent notice lying on the counter. What did he do when he wasn't killing criminals?

"What do you hope to accomplish by being the Red Hood?" she asked.

"Cleaning Gotham of filth. I will do everything Dick won't."

"Dick has the ability to kill, but he chooses not to. You've always had a choice, Jason."

"Sometimes we don't have that choice."

She looked sideways at him. Jason was just a few years older than she was. Even she had to admit that there was something ruggedly attractive about Jason, with his five o'clock shadow and slightly shaggy hair and his upturned coat collar, but Steph had learned a long time ago not to mix in with the bad boys. He took out a cigarette and stuck it between his teeth, although he didn't light it.

"It's not about me overcoming my bad circumstances or whatever," Jason said. "I chose to live like this. Sorry it's not up to your standards."

He chewed his cigarette as he began to clean up forcefully. Steph couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not.

After Steph had left him the night before, she had picked up Lian. Somehow the fierce little girl had apprehended her mother, one of the most dangerous assassins in the world. Jason had disappeared once the cops swarmed in to arrest Cheshire. Typical.

Stephanie Brown was not like the other Robins. Short as her run was, she came from a similar background as Jason. She could understand the dilapidated house, the cigarette butts scattered all over the floor, the empty beer cans piled in a corner. She just couldn't understand why anyone would choose to live this way when they could be so much more.

Steph held up a coupon. "Still up for a burger and shake?"

Jason merely looked at her, his face impassive. "Perhaps some other time, Brown."

She held up her hand to her ear. "Call me, maybe?"

As she turned to leave she swore she heard Jason snicker. A small smile graced her face. Perhaps there was hope for Jason yet.

**-TD-**

**Downtown**

**Jump City, California**

Tim supervised the cleanup, though he also swept away debris. The Wilson kids worked beside him. Jericho had made sure that all of the children got out of the way the night before. Hard to believe that he was the son of a great assassin. Joey was one of the nicest people Tim had ever met.

"Everyone made it back alive?" Tim asked, leaning on his broom.

Jericho nodded.

"Good." Tim sighed.

Once Starfire joined the battle the night before, everyone's spirits lifted. Civilians got excited whenever an original Titan appeared. Tim couldn't blame them. She was the most likable, the most approachable, especially when Dick left the Titans to work for Slade.

The battle, which Tim wasn't certain the Titans would win without help, fell apart soon after Starfire had appeared. As Tim suspected, the al Ghuls were behind the attacks, and once Dick and Damian had defeated them the agents stopped what they were doing.

 _"Did you talk to Dick?"_ Jericho asked.

"Yeah, he called."

Both of them looked up as Starfire streaked past them. Some civilians gasped and gaped as she sped pasts. Jericho gestured towards her.

_"Does he know?"_

"Oh, yeah, he knows. They'll meet in London."

Jericho smiled. Tim turned to watch Starfire fly off into the distance. Though he knew her marital situation, he knew that this meeting was needed. As Tim continued to sweep up the debris, he hoped that Dick would come back a happier man.

**-DG-**

**Millennium Bridge, Thames River**

**London, England**

The high, rotund roof of St. Paul's Cathedral gleamed in the sun's dying rays. Dick and Damian stood in the middle of the Millennium Bridge, a twisting steel structure that yawned over the Thames, and looked out over London. Somewhere out there Knight and Squire, London's Dynamic Duo, were kicking bad guy butt. Cyril and Beryl were kind enough to accommodate them during their brief stopover in London, something that Dick was eternally grateful for after everything that had happened.

They had arrived in London a few hours before, and though Dick knew that they had to get home, he wanted to stop for a bit. That was always his problem, wasn't it? Never slowing down enough to enjoy the small things in life.

"It's nice to be in a place where everyone speaks English," Dick said. "This is a nice sunset, don't you think?"

A great roar of laughter floated over the Thames. One of Shakespeare's comedies was being performed today. Perhaps Dick should get tickets for tomorrow night.

Parting from Slade had been easier than Dick expected. A brief handshake and their alliance was over. Being mad at Slade for betraying them would do nothing. In the end they all turned out okay, and Ms. Kane was going home. For the time being, the al Ghuls were in jail.

Damian began to fidget.

"Why are we standing here?" Damian asked sullenly. "We are creating a traffic jam."

"Enjoy the moment."

"Yes, enjoy the sludgy Thames and the disgusting peasants walking past."

Dick ruffled Damian's hair affectionately. "Maybe we should take a holiday to the country."

"It's nothing special."

"How about Disneyland, then? We'll go on It's a Small World."

"I'd rather be in the deepest circle of Dante's hell."

They fell into silence again. Dick could sense that Damian wanted to talk, so he waited. It didn't take long.

"Grayson, I apologize. I'm sorry, so sorr—"

"Shut up." Dick hugged Damian tightly. This was all he had left of Bruce, of the man who raised him and trained him, the man Dick considered his father. Damian relaxed into the hug. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was not unpleasant." Damian twiddled his thumbs as he continued to speak. "I apologize for what I said before. I did not understand what you had gone through, not until Talia did the same to me."

"Don't be sorry. It's hard to understand. I know it is."

"Why me? If you knew that I was dangerous, then why did you let me become Robin?"

Dick bent his knees until he was at eye-level with Damian, and choose his words carefully. "When I saw you for the first time you reminded me of myself. Angry, determined, and hurt in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. No one wanted you, but I did. I've acted the villain. There are things that my friends cannot understand and never will understand. But above all, Damian, I knew that you were capable of change." Dick faltered, startled by an overwhelming emotion. "I wanted to give you a choice because I wasn't given one."

For the longest time Dick had seen nothing but anger and annoyance on Damian's face, but Dick now realized how much of a child Damian still was.

"I've passed the Robin uniform down so many times: to Jason, to Tim, to you. I haven't regretted it yet." Dick placed a hand on Damian's shoulder. "I don't want you to be anyone. I just want you to be the best Damian Wayne you can be."

Silent tears rolled down Damian's face as he squeezed Dick into a powerful hug. Dick said nothing, did nothing except hug him back.

Something green streaked across the darkening sky. They broke apart. Dick looked up, immediately recognizing that streak of green light.

"They're here," Dick said quietly. "It's time to go."

"Who are here?" Damian demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on."

They walked off the steel bridge and past the Globe, towards Southbank, where the Eye and the carousel and street performers resided. Once or twice, Dick stopped to throw a few pounds into a musician's hat, and he noted that Damian did the same. Dick could not help but smile.

A very tall woman with fiery red hair stood next to a cotton candy stand, smiling as she handed some to her dark-haired child. The woman looked up as he approached, her smile wide and genuine. Excited flutters rippled through Dick's stomach. She was still as beautiful as ever. The child, her mouth full of pink cotton candy, shrieked with delight as she turned.

"Daddy!"

Dick knelt and opened his arms to receive his daughter, who nearly flew into his arms. She touched his face and dragged her fingers across his black stubble. "Why don't you say something, Daddy? Aren't you happy to see us?"

"Yeah, of course ..." Dick swallowed a sudden sob. "I'm so glad to see you. So very, very glad."

It had been months since he had seen his daughter in the flesh. He had nearly forgotten her slight Tamaranean accent, how the weight of her felt in his arms, how her English was so much more fluid than her mother's.

Mar'i was too young to understand her parents' legacies, but in this moment it didn't matter. The family was back together again.

"Why did you come?" Dick asked Kory. "I didn't expect you to visit until Blorthog."

"I need to know if you are the okay," Kory said, looking at him steadily. "Slade did not give you too much trouble?"

"He doesn't matter," Dick replied. "Besides, is this okay with your husband?"

"He knows that Mar'i is your child. And you did not answer my question."

"We're fine.

She hugged him. He was suddenly very grateful for Kory, of how much effort she put into his well-being. Even if they were not lovers anymore, she was still one of his best friends. Tamaraneans never stopped loving people they cared about, even when they were no longer in a romantic relationship. Dick hadn't fully understood that until now.

Mar'i, who had noticed Damian's red eyes, offered him a piece of her cotton candy. After eying it for a moment Damian accepted it.

Mar'i was blissfully unaware of everything bad in the world, being as young as she was. Someday she would learn about her father's history. Someday she may even continue in her parents' footsteps. But today was not that day.

"Let's go for a walk." Dick took Mar'i in one hand and Damian's hand in his other. "We're a family. Nothing can change that."

Kory took Mari's other hand. The four of them walked along the embankment. Going where, even Dick didn't exactly know, but he didn't care.

Dick had often wondered if he would ever find peace in his turbulent life. Dwelling on the past only perpetuated suffering. Accepting what had happened and moving on was the only way he could find happiness. And while, every so often, he would stop and think about the tragedies in his life, he knew that he could not change the past. Better to spend time with the people he loved.

**-SW-**

**Thames Embankment**

**London, England**

Slade stood moodily along the embankment, his long trench coat flapping in the breeze. People weaved around him as he stood there, still as a boulder. He watched Dick and his family walk along the other side of the river.

"You're not spying, are you?" Addie asked.

"She came back to him with the child," Slade said. "They were waiting on the bridge."

"You need to stop stalking people."

She took his arm and led him away, towards Parliament and Big Ben, if Slade's memory of London served him correctly. For once, it wasn't raining in London. This was a nice city, really. Without a contract or other business here Slade found it nice to wander this immense city.

"If it wasn't for the war, I'd love to have taken you here for our honeymoon," Slade said.

"It's too late for that. I have Waller."

"Why did you follow me here, then?"

She gestured towards the other side of the river. "I needed to know why you followed him."

Why _did_ Slade follow him? Part of him was curious. The alien woman came all the way from Tamaran to see Dick. How touching.

"Wanted to see how Wayne would react after all this. That's all."

"After everything you put him through—"

"It was Talia's doing. Not mine." He looked at her. "You understand why I did it?"

"Yes. Doesn't make it right."

What was done was done. No one had been killed, and it seemed as though Damian made amends with Dick. Everything was better in the long run, right?

 _Don't kid yourself,_ Slade thought. _We're messed up. All of us._

"I have no intention of reigniting our relationship," Addie said. "As romantic as you may be, you don't get kudos for saving my life. Find someone else, someone else who will put up with your bullshit."

How could he explain himself to her? That he would never meet another woman quite like her, who was quick to point out his faults and brutally honest when it was needed most.

"You are the mother of my children. I owe it to Joey to make sure you're safe."

"Did you really let Dick go?"

"Yes."

Funny, really: he had built his entire reputation on being a solid man, a man who knew his way in life. He could kill in mere milliseconds, but he still could not speak clearly to his ex-wife.

"I didn't know that," Addie said quietly.

"The boy didn't give me much choice, but I did not pursue him."

"And you think that makes everything right?"

"I moved on. That's better than I can say for some other villains he's fought."

"You were a better man, Slade."

"I really am sorry," Slade said.

"Are you sorry only because I got hurt? Because Wintergreen got hurt?" Addie snorted. "You're a pathological liar, Slade. You always have been. Besides, you never answered my question: why did you follow him?" She wasn't going to leave until she got an answer.

"I need to see how he's been," Slade said. "I wanted to know if it was real—his child, I mean."

Together they looked out across the bank. The little family was walking down, doing what, Slade did not know. All at once that child connected Slade and Dick, yet distanced them. Before that child there had always been that slim hope—if Slade could call it that—that Dick would work for him again. He almost had once or twice during his run as Nightwing. But that child was physical proof that Dick really had moved on. And seeing Dick here, with his half-Tamaranean child and Wayne's son, made Slade realize that he was now tethered to something even stronger: family. But most importantly of all, Slade realized that he had been wrong about Dick.

"I'm meeting Will at the airport," Slade said absently. "He's better now. There's no lasting damage."

"I'm glad your stupidity hasn't killed him yet. He's a better man than you, and he always will be."

It was hard to be happy for other people, especially when Slade wasn't happy himself. It frustrated Slade to find that Dick had found happiness when he could not, but in the end Slade supposed that it was better this way. At least Addie and the kids were safe. That was all that mattered.

"Can we part as friends?" Slade asked.

"Only as friends apart." She looked steadily at him. "If we ever are friends again."

She lit a cigarette. Once he too smoked, but he made himself quit after the divorce. He wondered briefly if he should say something to her, but then he thought better of it. Better to part as allies than as enemies. It was certainly better than when they had parted after the divorce; she had been practically murderous.

"I'll be going now," Addie said. "Waller and I will leave for the States this afternoon. Goodbye, Slade."

"Goodbye, Adeline."

It was time to go. Slade was needed elsewhere, and his mission was accomplished. Slade supposed that he shouldn't have expected anything out of this; after all, he'd just worked with the two people who hated him the most. He would never admit to anyone that he had been wrong; he couldn't do that, especially not with his professional reputation at stake. Perhaps one day he would, but he couldn't envision that.

Well, there was no use thinking about what could have been. Slade and Adeline nodded once, turned their backs to one another, and parted. Walking away from her was harder the second time around, yet he was sure she did not feel the same. Without looking back, Slade continued on his way, certain that he would never see her again.

 

**THE END**

* * *

Artwork by [Shutupshea](http://shutupshea.tumblr.com/post/44442387214/lets-go-for-a-walk-dick-took-mari-in-one-hand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I apologize for the long hiatus and some confusing chapter updates. 
> 
> A big shout out to artist Shutupshea for creating the fanart just after the fic's completion on FF! If you like her artwork and would like to see more please visit the link to the original post (her tumblr). 
> 
> As always (tradition carried over from FF), if you have been reading but not commentating now is the time! Please let me know if you enjoyed this fic, or hated it, but if you do hate it all I ask is that you leave thoughtful criticism in order to improve my writing. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! I will be uploading the last few chapters of Legacy this weekend. As I am in the process of moving my bigger fics over here from FF, I will be uploading a TT apprentice fic that I wrote some time ago (have been waiting since it's not my favorite fic, but people enjoy it so I'll upload it!) called "In Too Deep." 
> 
> -Hanna Sedai


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